Who Says?

Who says animals can't talk?  Aside from the barks, purrs, tweets, squeaks, "Chuck, Chuck, Chuck," etc., animals say more without making a sound than can be imagined.  It's not like I don't have enough critter blog fodder right here at Farview, but this photo of Dave's "son" Smoke is too good not to share.  The look on Smoke's face says it all.  Smoke has some trouble with his back legs and that creates a sore on his foot, which he aggravates by licking.  When it gets too bad, he has to wear The Cone of Shame while the sore heals.  Smoke does not like The Cone of Shame.  He said so.

We are quite a parade in the morning, the cats, Bessie Anne, and me as we go down the hall to the kitchen before sunup.  Nothing happens until I get the coffee maker going, then Bess starts her happy dance, wriggling and prancing in front of her treat drawer.  She needs no words to ask for the one soft treat she gets every morning.  (Milk bones are reserved for good behavior when guests come and the lamb/rice bars are her reward for either going for a ride in the truck or when I come back after leaving her home alone.)  Celeste is more subtle.  Waiting for the coffee to drip through, I'll feel a soft touch on my legs.  Looking down, I see Celeste lip sync a silent "Meow" as she brushes against me.  She says she wants her morning goodies, too.  Ralph, the resident goofball, has no interest in treats (and I've tried several kinds for him).  He goes off in the other room and attacks Bessie's soft toys, dragging them all over the house.  Celeste lets Ralph think he is the alpha male until she's had enough and then takes him down a peg.

Yes, I talk to the animals and they speak to me.