Talking to my cats is nothing new. They are some of the better listeners in my life. They know my brilliance and when I’m teetering on the brink of madness.
Sheltered in place as we all necessarily are, my monologues have stretched as long as have the hours of our confinement. The cats remain inscrutable, blinking knowingly, patient. Mostly they’re pleased with this new era of 24/7 service.
They hear me out.
These are some things I tell my cats.
People who can fold fitted sheets are the problem.
Why didn’t Captain Beyond become more well-known?
Masks plus a six-foot distance make it nearly impossible for the hearing damaged to interact with others, so why bother?
Oranges are pretty much magic fruits.
If dust is what’s left of our ancestors, then I am of a mind it is sacred and therefore, shall not be touched.
Did you know there is such a thing as a crossword puzzle? Let me tell you about the joy.
I envy your excitement at kibble. I cannot get excited about much these days.
I worry about humans.
You act like I was never in a rock and roll band.
James Jamerson is one of the best bassists that ever was. Don’t even argue with me.
Can you smell pine needles on warm duff? Darned shame if you can’t.
Let me tell you about my dreams.
If you had opposable thumbs you’d get the door for me.
The only time I wish you were dogs is when I’m going for a walk.
I’ll bet you can’t guess my favorite tree in the yard.
I think we can all agree the sun is everything.
There will come a day when I name a cocktail after you.
Thanks for listening. Again.
Suzanne Cheavens is associate editor of the Telluride Daily Planet.