When I stagger awake at 6:30 or 7 am and walk back and forth trying to remember everything I need to bring along on our walk – cell phone, plastic bags, camera, hat, sun glasses, IPod, water, wallet and, oh yes, leash – Gizmo is lying down in his cage, tail wagging, but quiet, waiting, patiently. Very patiently, considering that he has not relieved himself for nearly eight hours and is thirsty.
When we are outside and Gizmo begins his energetic bounding, running, tail way up, legs reaching high into the air before hitting the ground, he rushes to the side gate. And waits. Staring at the gate, longing to be on the walk, tail wagging even more intensely. But patient.
When I have to walk back into the house because I forgot something – probably the most important accouterment to our walk, his leash – he will wait at the back gate until I get back to him. Waiting. Still excited. But patient.
And the patience almost always pays off for him: if he waits long enough, with an expectant look on his cute face, attentive but not nagging, the walk will happen.
I might try that, but I don’t think I could ever be as patient as he is. And my tail would never wag as cutely as his does.
“Cats are smarter than dogs. You can't get eight cats to pull a sled through snow.” Jeff Valdez
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