A Love Supreme
Or maybe it’s forbidden love. I’m not really sure. But I try telling him it won’t work out with her; they’re just too different. Totally different background, different upbringing. In fact, they’re different species. And I don’t mean men are from Mars, women are from Venus. I mean they’re actually DIFFERENT SPECIES. Dog and cat. Canine and feline. And, being a biologist, I know that kind of thing doesn’t work out in the end. But Duke, the German shepherd, is just besotted with Elphie, the kitty. I say, look, man, it’ll never work out. She’ll never fully accept you for who you are – or what you are. He doesn’t listen to me, of course; who listens to reason when you’re head-over-heels in love?
Duke spends most of his of his day looking for Elphie, and if she comes into a room, he pretty much can’t contain himself; he rushes over to her and tries to nuzzle or paw her. Much of the time she doesn’t give him the time of day. Ignores him from a perch. Hisses at him; with the occasional swipe across his face, which he is pretty good at ducking. At other times she’ll rub her head against his, walk underneath him and rub up against him. Talk about sending mixed messages! Duke doesn’t know what’s up, and Elphie clearly runs the relationship (infer whatever you want from that). Does Duke enjoy the uncertainty, the will-she or won’t-she nature of Elphie? The mystery? Elphie is the only show in town for Duke. He really doesn’t give a shit about the other cat I have. Oh sure, he chases her, but I can tell his heart isn’t in it, it’s not out of love.
I adopted Duke when he was two. His owner had been in a motorcycle accident, and could no longer take care of a big dog, and I was the first to answer the Facebook message about him needing a good home. He doesn’t have any doggy friends, and I don’t think Duke was socialized properly when he was young. The kennel I take him to says Duke is “anxious”, a generous and diplomatic term that means Duke doesn’t get along with other dogs. Maybe I’m “anxious”, too.
We have other things in common. I have arthritis and a bad hip; so does he. I’m thinking of taking some of his glucosamine pills. He sleeps on the bed with me, as does Elphie – carefully - in a truce that lasts most of the night. Duke’s hips will give out before mine do, and at that point he won’t be able to make it upstairs and onto my bed. Then I’ll probably move downstairs. He’s my roommate, after all.
Being German, Duke loves beer, although he doesn’t get it that often, and then only by accident. The keg tap was left open at a Christmas party once, and Duke helped himself to the spilled beer. He really can’t handle his liquor any better than I can. His back end was sliding around like the rear of a hook-and-ladder fire truck. Sometimes didn’t make it around corners.
And I THOUGHT he liked hiking, but apparently not so much. Bridget and I took him on a two-and-a-half hour hike a couple of years ago. The next time I took him hiking, several weeks later, we were a quarter mile up the trail when he just stopped, looked at me, and turned around. Started heading back to the trail head. Didn’t even look back. “Duke!” I yelled. “Duke!” Nope. He basically said fuck you, you bastard. I’m not falling for that again. The things you learn about one another in a relationship.
But I can understand Duke’s attraction to Elphie (named by Carrie after Elphaba, from Wicked.) Elphie is quite simply the best cat I’ve ever owned. Being a black-and-white, or tuxedo, she has a great personality, and is very curious and affectionate. She’s also a cold-blooded killer. Despite being a delicate thing, she is that cat that will kill all the young rats from a nest over a week or so, some of which she’ll bring to me in the bedroom. Good girl.
But I’m not hopeful about the prospects for this relationship. Either it will end badly – someone will get hurt (and I mean physically hurt: claws raked across a nose) - or it will continue in this stalemate. Which maybe is okay. You know, the relationship that MIGHT’VE worked out, what might’ve been. The path not taken. Which is always a successful relationship in your mind, unsullied by reality.
Better this way. We’ll always have Paris.
