Bill's Bulletin Board
By Bill Rea

I think most of us who share our homes with pets are sometimes little surprised at how intuitive our four-legged friends can be.

It's also true that many people I've encountered can be pretty parochial about their pets, believing theirs is remarkably intuitive, while everyone else's critter is either a dumb mutt of some alley cat. But I'm the type of guy who stands up for the right of anyone to be parochial, within reason. So everyone's dog or cat is gifted with some amount of intuition.

I got a hint of some of that early last week.

My wife had to go to a work-related conference for a couple of days last week, meaning I had the house to myself. In one sense, it was fun, being able to eat when and what I pleased, being able to watch what I wanted on TV without having to inquire if the program was acceptable to all those assembled, not having to worry about doing the dishes (that is until Wednesday morning, since the lady of the house was expected back that day). It's nice for a guy like me to bach it every now and then.

But I also had to worry about Sidney, our cat. So much for my pre-wife days.

I never had a cat before I got married, but Beth has given me a crash course over the years on how to take care of one. So I am skilled when it comes to cleaning a litter box, and I know where to find the Purina Cat Chow. There might be a bit of discrepancy in how much to feed her. Beth has told me a couple of handfuls of food in the morning, and maybe one at night, if she seems demanding. The problem is Beth has very petite hands and I don't. That means Sidney probably ate better last week than she has in a long time.

But it was clear that she knew Beth was missing. She (Sidney is female) spent most of her time in the basement, near her dishes and litter box, which is a little unusual. She normally likes to be fairly close to us, while not too close - at least in the same room.

She also has a little bed down by her dishes and litter box (it was the bed our dog slept in when I was a kid), but she seldom uses it. She normally camps out on the main bed upstairs, graciously sharing the space with Beth and I, usually closer to Beth, but not too close. She (I mean Sidney) hates being cuddled too much or picked up.

But with Beth out of the house for a couple of days, Sidney found some place else to snooze at night. In fact I woke up at about 3 one morning, and actually rose and went looking for her. I found her in the basement, giving me a sort of "What are looking for, dummy?" look on her clock.

Feeding time went ahead the way it was supposed to every morning. Sidney didn't have to remind me, but she also sort of hung around me, and I suspect she was ready to make some noise if it looked like I was going to forget.

Needless to say, Sidney was relatively pleased when Beth got home Wednesday, although she felt obliged to distribute a certain amount of bad attitude to get even for the previous couple of days. She spent much of that night cozying up to her, with the occasional trips to my side of the bed to kick my wristwatch off my night table.

That's not to say that my existence isn't important to her (I hope). Beth has a somewhat more conventional work schedule than I, meaning she's usually home around supper time, while I am frequently much later.

If I'm home before bed time, I will frequently find her on my side of the couch, keeping Beth company. She also jumps down as soon as she sees me, whether I make a move to the couch or not. And if I'm really late, she's often found snoozing on my side of the bed. Since she's asleep, she's usually not as inclined to vacate my space, and since I'm usually tired, I am in no mood to try entering into reasonable debate with a cat. I usually try moving her as gently as possible, but she normally responds by bolting from the room as if jet propelled.

It has always been my experience that pets clue in quickly when there are changes in the normal routine.

Sidney's predecessor Sally was Beth's cat when we were dating. Sally, at first at least, made it clear she didn't like me. Beth later theorized that when I showed up at the house, I would take her away with me, leaving Sally on her own. I guess that made me a rival for Beth's affections, after having her all to herself for several years.

That was also true with the dog my family had for 16 years during the period when I was pretending to grow up. He was a dachshund that we named Kurt, as when I was in high school, it was part of my job to walk him every night. He also used to eat at

5 p.m., and that task was handled by whoever was free at that time; frequently me.

There was one time I was away for a couple of days on a school trip. It amounted to no terrible disruption to routine. One or both of my parents were able to take a walk for a couple of evenings, and Kurt was not one to let supper time pass without raising a fuss. But the first night I was away was different.

My mother later told me that Kurt seemed almost depressed that evening. He hardly touched his supper (astonishing for a glutton like that,) and he spent most of his time whining and moping.

"He knew you were gone," Mom later told me.

Somewhere in the recesses of his canine mind, he clued in that things were a little different, and he didn't like it.

Looking at it from a pet's point of view, there are certain things they depend on, and if the usual mechanism for providing it is adjusted, even minutely, they have to start wondering what that's going to do to their status. Thus they go into their little moods and start . . .

Hey! What's happening to me? This is starting to read like I'm becoming intuitive.

I guess I was right when I said pets were intuitive, but I should have added they're dominating too.