The Best Person Ever has walked in, and Mommy’s voice gets high-pitched greeting her. After she returns some high-pitched sounds, she crouches and makes more sounds. Two syllables are recognizable.
“Ginger!”
Ginger bounds to her. Excitement shakes her every which way, spilling into showers of licks on Best Person Ever’s face, along with the occasional bark of “I’M SO HAPPY TO SEE YOU!”
Of course, the two-legged ones understand Ginger as much as Ginger understands them, but happiness is a universal language. They are both very happy to see each other, and between Ginger’s barks and Best Person’s cooing, they work something out.
Mommy says things. Best Person replies, still petting and scritching Ginger because she is the Best.
But Mommy leaves. She leaves all the time! Is she going to come home?
“Ginger!” Best Person calls, already halfway to the Food Bowl Room.
Ginger hurries after her, little furry body panting and wagging. She decides it’ll be alright for a while. At least Best Person is around!
Best Person gives Ginger sooooo many belly rubs. All the belly rubs. The best belly rubs.
Ginger snuffles, but doesn’t stir. The Couch is the Best Couch, comfy and soft, and Best Person is keeping up her languid pets, crooning from time to time. Happiness is connecting them again, and so Ginger understands that Best Person likes giving belly rubs as much as Ginger likes getting them.
Watson, the noble leader of the household, slinks around the corner. No doubt he is prowling for the Food Bowl Room. Ginger’s was emptied within minutes, since she’s hardly fed, but Watson is sparing. A regal Calico he is, colored spots like jewels adorning his white fur.
Best Person makes happy noises. Ginger looks up to see her eyes on Watson. Best Person always cheers when Watson shows himself. Watson never answers, though Ginger never knows why. Best Person is the Best.
Mmmmm, belly rubs.
Ball, ball, ball, BALL! BALL!
Ginger recognizes another word: “Fetch!”
BALL!!
Ginger runs it back to Best Person. But as always, she tries to take it instead. She still hasn’t grasped the concept of Fetch: she is there to throw the ball, not take it.
Ginger holds on. Best Person makes loud happy sounds, the fast kind that Ginger loves the most. They are the Extra Happy Sounds, bursts of scent and color.
“Ginger, give!”
Ugh, fine. But only because Ginger likes her so—BALL!
Is that—what is that? What is that?!
Is that a dog? IT’S A DOG! Ginger has to see that dog. Defend the Home and Best Person, and also sniff, sniff, sniff. What’s their business here, anyway? Ginger must find out!
“WHAT DO YOU WANT?” Ginger roars, for she is a fierce Yorkshire Terrier.
“I’M WALKING!” Dog snaps back, “I NEVER GET WALKS!”
Liar! Ginger sees Dog all the time!
They try to approach each other and assess the situation. But Dog’s Human pulls them away with garbled words and Ginger is, sadly, restricted by The Wall surrounding the house. It’s got pointy tops and painted worn white. Ginger’s tried scratching it, but Mommy doesn’t like that, and making Mommy upset is the Worst Thing Ever.
“Ginger!” Best Person calls, “Food!”
Food? FOOD!
“I’M WATCHING YOU!” Ginger says to Dog. Satisfied, she sprints for Best Person.
“Hello, Watson!” Ginger says, for she is quieter with Watson. One must Respect the Cat. “How are you today?”
Watson flicks his tail, but happiness offers nothing, not like when Ginger wags her tail. Still, Watson doesn’t seem angry.
He trills something, narrowing his yellow-green eyes. Ginger can’t tell what he’s saying either.
Still, he brushes their bodies when he passes her. Ginger enjoys having him as a Bestest Friend.
Best Person ever cuddles Ginger when they sleep. Because she is the Best. When she’s holding Ginger, Ginger can close her eyes and not miss Mommy so much.
The Best Person Ever has walked in. This time, it’s Mommy! Mommy’s come back! Ginger always knew she would!
“Ginger!” she shouts, holding out her arms. She makes the happiest sounds, and Ginger replies.
Then Best Person leaves. Why does she have to leave?!
But Mommy! Mommy is here! Everything’s good now!
Watson graces Mommy with his presence, even accepting a few pets. He eats the food he is given before quickly disappearing to his lair in the Basement.
“Ginger,” Mommy says, petting and petting because she’s Ginger’s Favorite. She says other things, all happy, happy, happy.
For a moment, they know exactly what the other means.
