Senseless Sunday Sarcasm : Language
I’ve mentioned many times that my son is the multi-lingual poet in the family.
I know how to ask “Where’s the bathroom” in 4 languages. 😏
“Donde esta el banjo?”
Enough about my expertise in that area.
My ability with body language is equally as good.
This would be me trying not to fall while rock climbing.
Enough about the reason I was never allowed to rock climb again.
Some days there’s no language in the universe to help one understand the message.
When your dog has enough brain cells to walk, poop and eat:
There are two languages I have yet to master: Dog & Cat.
If s/he doesn’t need to go to the bathroom, or want something to eat, it sounds like Klingon to me.
Cats, on the other claw, have a way of MAKING you understand.
Below is a picture of the Tiny Terror and Chilly Coon Kitty. No one can mistake their intent.
They were holding my monitor hostage. It took a claw to the hand (they didn’t want to be petted) and a cat fight in front of the monitor for me to “get it.”
No. They wanted a treat.
One day, when my spirit becomes part of the universe, I might be able to speak the language of dog and cat, but my hands may be in shreds before that happens.