[writing time: 9 minutes]
J is for Jump
The first day the dogs could talk, they didn’t say anything at all. In fact, it wasn’t until later that we even know it was the first day they could talk. Later, the dogs admitted that it was because they only knew a few words, and they didn’t want to run around saying, “pee” and “poop” and “bird” all day.
Who knew dogs had that kind of pride, or any pride at all? That they would, could, decide as a group, not to talk until they could actually communicate what they wanted to say?
What they wanted to say, it turned out, was mostly about cats. They like the cats, it turns out. They’re tired of the cats versus dog thing. They don’t want to be pitted against them anymore. Cats smell sweet, like milk and fish, they said. They are soft and cuddly. The cats don’t dislike the dogs, either, the dogs said. It’s a mutually beneficial like, and the dogs are tired of it. An artificial construct, said one dalmation, who was by far the most articulate.
We listened a long time, nodding. It made sense to us. A truce, we agreed. No more would the dogs and cats of the world be pitted against each other without their permission. No more dog people and cat people. No more Tom and Jerry cartoons exploiting that relationship.
The dogs panted, put their ears forward, gave us high-fives. All was well.
And then the cats started talking…