Going to the Dogs

Hello Gentle Human,

Benny here. Normally Freddie, my colleague, roommate and confidant, issues these Friday columns but he is unavailable. He developed a touch of ague earlier in the week. When we fall ill, one of Cat’s Cradle’s foster families takes us for a few days, soothes our fevered brows, scratches that place between our eyes, and keeps our roommates from becoming ill (which is greatly appreciated, let me tell you).

Actually, I was the one who noticed Freddie wasn’t feeling up to scratch. He was lying in the tube at the bottom of the kitty gym looking abstracted and slightly more miserable than one’s average Tuesday warrants. I crawled in with him and nuzzled his head.

“Hey, Freddie, you okay?”

“That depends. Is my head actually incased in cement?”

“Doesn’t look like it.”

“Well it feels like it. My head feels so stuffy I can’t think.”

“Can’t think, hmmm” I began to make some mental notes. “What else? Excessive drooling?”

He nodded. “Little bit.”

“Feel like you smell wrong?”

“Are you trying to tell me something?”

“No, no, no! Just asking. Trying for a diagnosis, you know. No judgment. Honest.”

“Well,” he closed his eyes, “I wasn’t going to say anything, but I have this sort of… well…”

“Heavy, dank overpowering odor?”

“Yes! Benny, what do you think is wrong with me??”

I thought for a moment, hoping not to have to confirm the worst. “…inability to think, excessive drooling… repugnant odor.”

“That’s a bit harsh.”

“Regrettable odor?”

“Better.”

“Well, there’s no softening the truth. Freddie, you’re becoming a dog.”

“WHAT???”

I nodded. “I know. We always assumed we would grow from kittens to cats, but perhaps it is not always so. I mean, dogs do have to come from somewhere…”

“Puppies, Benny, puppies.”

“Oh. Right. Um, Freddy? You want me to get our humans? One of them is a retired doctor. That’s not quite as good as a vet, but she might know something.”

“Thanks, Benny.”

“And Freddie? I’m so glad you aren’t becoming a dog.”

“Me too, Benny. Me too.”