The other night I was making the evening rounds and I see Tess (the cat) sleeping soundly on our bed, in kitty dreamland. I proceed downstairs and slowly open our family room sliding glass door so the dogs can have a last evening potty break. Then – out of nowhere – Tess comes pouncing down the stairs making a beeline for the sliding door. Never mind she was sound asleep not even two minutes a ago. To Tess, with that sliding door came the prospect of freedom.
After watching Tess run like a bat (cat?) out of hell toward the door, I turn to Bryan and said, “It’s as if Tess has an antenna for the sliding door to the backyard.” She has a sense when that door opens it’s her cue to get the heck out of Dodge.
The more I thought about that concept, I realized that every creature in this house has an antenna. Casey’s antenna is food. She can be fast asleep upstairs and I’ll be in the kitchen quietly prepping a meal. I slowly open a package of chicken or cheese and seconds later, Casey is there begging for food. Perhaps it’s her keen sense of smell (she is half-beagle). But it’s crazy how she can sense a packet of turkey being opened from so far away.
Romeo’s antenna is affection. Romeo is a “needy” dog; he needs a lot of attention, petting and love. In fact, the commands he knows best is, “Go lie down,” because it’s his cue to stop begging for touches and leave us humans alone for ten seconds. It’s sweet … for five minutes and then it’s enough, really.
But where his antenna comes into play is when you’re giving love and affection to another animal in the house. Romeo can be upstairs and out of sight when I decide to give Casey a few rubs. Out of nowhere, there’s Romeo, making his way to me to get himself some attention. How does he know that I’m loving someone else in that very moment?! His antenna radar must go into full force when anyone is being touched or petted.
Sophie has her antennas too. Lately candy sets off Sophie’s antenna. If I so much as open a bag of jelly beans (open, not pour them) or remove a bag of M&M’s from the pantry, there she is, with her hands (and mouth) wide open. How on earth did she know chocolate is available?
Even I have an antenna. And these days, mine detects silence. The instance the house is quiet for more than a minute, my antenna is sounding that I need to see what’s afoot. While the antenna can give off false positives, most frequently, that sensor is dead-on indicating silence can equal trouble from the Sophie or the animals. Perhaps that’s the parent antenna that is installed automatically when your child is born.
I wonder, do antennas change over time? Maybe; though these dogs and cats seem to be pretty consistent in what their Spidey sense picks up on. All I know is when I get ready to open the sliding door, I stand guard for Tess. I never leave turkey meat – and candy –unattended. And silence is not always golden.
What’s your antenna? What about your pets? Do they have a sixth sense for their favorite past time?