Saturday, March 24, 2012

I Have to Explain About Day 28

You may know that this year, instead of giving up one thing for Lent, I'm giving up 40 different things for one day each. Jesus is totally cool with this.

So let me get this straight. You're going to give up 40...
*sigh* Go ahead. At least you're trying.
And every day on my Facebook page, I post what the day's Lenten sacrifice will be. (And if you don't follow me on Facebook, shame on you. When they find my body, it will be your fault. No pressure.)

But my Day 28 sacrifice possibly requires a touch of explanation.

Today, for one entire day, I can't pretend to talk for my cats.

Not particularly relevant, but so cute!
Come on, pet owner Drunkards: Don't tell me you don't sometimes pretend to talk for your animals in a funny voice. Yes, you. It's OK, you can admit it here. Because I guarantee I do it way more than you do.

I do tend to take things to extremes.
I blame my mom. She started it. She's always talked for her pets, giving them distinctive voices and personalities and holding two-sided conversations where she played both herself and the critters. I've been hearing these voices in my head from an early age, and I don't know any other way to be. Have mercy. It's all I know.

When Beloved Spouse and I got our first dog, and then our first cat, he seemed perfectly willing to go along with my, um, propensity.

Nothing brings people together better than crazy.
So our pets have always had voices, supplied by us. And now Precocious Daughter does it, too. We are a family of quirky people. "Quirky" being a nicer word than "batshit insane."

Quirky. See?
But today, I'm not going to talk for the Siamese Kitten or the Senior Cat. Today, they're just mute felines, allowed to conduct themselves with a modicum of dignity, unnarrated by my high-pitched attempts to verbalize their innermost thoughts. Which they probably don't even have, because they're cats.

The term "derp" didn't just invent itself, you know.
So far I've had to stop myself from saying something in the cat-voices about 95 times. Seriously. I'm serious. It's that bad.

 I didn't prohibit myself from talking for Darling Dog. But that's a slippery slope, so I'm avoiding the gateway drug and I'm just not going to talk for any of the pets today.

It's embarrassingly difficult.

It's official: There is a lolcat for every occasion.
I have to remember, I'm doing this for Jesus. I'm not really sure how it benefits Him directly. But if I can show my faith and devotion to His principles by not pretending to talk for my cats for a day, then jumpin' jiminy, that's what I'm going to do.

Jeezus lieks kittehs.
 Wish me luck. This may be the most difficult day of the entire Lenten season. And I haven't even gotten to the "no coffee" day yet.

Ceiling Cat, help me.


  1. We have a specific "voice" for Lola, as well as number of sayings specifically attributed to her. My husband gets onto me for using the Lola voice in public. Understandable, in that Lola was found in the North Georgia mountains on a dirt road, and has an accent and syntax befitting her origins. So I get it, completely.

  2. I am curious to see if you made it - I couldn't do a day without talking to my dog. LOL


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