I’d have taken a picture of my animals this morning, if I’d had camera in hand (James borrowed mine for an adventure he and Tim are in the midst of). Westley, our large orange kitty, and Brindy, our small elderly dog, wound around my bare legs, glancing up expectantly, nearly tripping my feet. Westley said, “Mrr, mer,” the impatient way he does. Brindy made feeble attempts to raise her front paws higher than the cat’s back.
After I’ve jogged on the treadmill my puttering in the utility room, no matter how I try to expedite it, is never fast enough for them. But finally this morning the three of us made it to the carpet, where I piled a mound of kitty kibbles (tuna flavor) in one corner for Westley and set under Brindy’s nose a peanut butter doggy treat. Then, as always, to their contented crunching sounds, I sat with my legs out, stretching.
If I don’t do things just this way, I get dog slobber from thigh to shin. The drool began years ago, in the days Brindy strained at her leash and harness as I puffed along the river path. My puppy dog loved accompanying me for a run, but even better, I think, was how I tasted back at home. “Don’t lick me!” became my stretching motto, as I tried to avoid her tongue. Sometimes I gave in and allowed it; on other occasions I tried to love Brindy up enough beforehand so that she left me to stretch, both of us content.
In days beyond learning what pavement can do to hips and knees, Brindy and I both stay off the streets, and so I get even sweatier running where it’s warm (Tim did set me up a wonderful fan, but still the drips occur). When Westley started noticing I was salted up nice on the rug, he’d bring his rough tongue to my knee, as well, while I tried to escape Brindy’s lickings and enjoy my stretches. So, finally, I thought of treating them.
They caught on quick. What was once an afterthought – mm, smell that salty human skin – has become the main deal: is she wearing shorts? oh, is that loud machine running with the overblaring music and that blowy thing turned on? then get ready – the yummies are coming!
Your furrykids have you well-trained! As do mine, of course. Ah, ain’t it grand to be owned?
Yes, Anna, funny that we ever feel like we’re in control…
*smile* I had an image of the salt-sucking monster from Star Trek. (Remember? It could assume human shape but as itself was a shaggy thing with hands like suckers.)
Right, Fresca, it assumed the shapes of people (or animals, probably) as it needed to. ‘Twas scary. :o)
Could even look like household pets, I bet! ; )
I know what it is like to be a human salt lick for a dog! Maggie really loves it if I have vanilla-scented lotion on my legs and then start to sweat. I guess it’s that yummy unami sort of taste. You have developed a clever work-around.
Thanks, Beth. I hope my animals aren’t sodium deprived now. :o)