Okay, I know I was going to write in a lot sooner given my previous post.   To make a long story short, the following predictions from my previous post came true to some degree when my sister visited last:  5, 12, 17, and 21.  Claudia will be coming again for Thanksgiving in October, and the same predictions stand for this future visit.

Moving on now, this last week my family has been playing host to a guest, a small lady with blond hair, brown eyes, a white beard, and a constant desire to play in my backyard.  Her name is Nala, and she is a Jack Russell whom we are dog-sitting while her owner is away.  I should note that not everyone in my family has agreed to having Nala as a guest this week – to be honest, my Mom agreed to this without actually taking into account that the rest of us did not consent.  My brother voiced his dissent as did I, my father who dislikes animals to begin with actually though we were joking about babysitting a dog for a week, and my cat Madison wasn’t even consulted.

 

Anyways, we were told that this dog slept all day, didn’t need to be walked, and only expected to be played with for about five minutes per day.  Apparently the rest of the day this dog sleeps.  This information we were given turned out to be completely untrue, as this dog wants much more attention than her owner seems to be giving her, but the worst part of this week has been that our cat has taken refuge in the basement for almost seven days now!  Madison used to spend time with at least one of us when we would pursue our hobbies, as demonstrated by this photo in which she is has claimed my fabric, but we’ve hardly seen her at all this week because every time she hears the dog coming she runs back to the basement.

Today is Nala’s last day here, but unfortunately I don’t think Madison even realizes that Nala will be leaving at all.  It seems that the longer Nala stays, the more depressed Madison is.  Which brings me to the climax of this post:  it turns out that my cat likes to express her depression through song, particularly the piano in our basement.  This morning when Nala was playing loudly and violently with one of her toys, Madison could be heard playing very low depressing keys from downstairs as if to say, “Who do you honestly like better, that wild and unsophisticated dog who takes out her frustration by acting rabid, or someone who can use her frustration to compose?”