Thursday 16 August 2007

Welcoming committee

I find it quite astounding how slowly humans move.

Take this for example: Ellen comes home and I greet her from the other side of the garage door. "Hello, hello," I say. "Have you had a nice day?"

"Hello, chickie," she says. (This, for some weird reason, is what she often calls me.) "Are you locked outside again?"

Now you'd think, if she thought that, that she'd open the garage door so I could go inside with her. Wouldn't you? But she doesn't. Instead, she opens the front door of the house, and I have to go all the way around to the back door to get inside. (Luckily my catdoor isn't stuck.)

By the time she gets the key in the door and nudges it open, I'm there waiting for her! All I do is jog. I'm not even out of breath! It's like she opens the door in slow-motion, or something.

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