I have so much to learn. Sometimes I get it right, sometimes I don’t.
I’m pretty good about the peep thing now – I’ve figured out the bell by the back door and when I really need to go, I slap it really hard. This is good.
I’ve pushed the cardboard walls over so many times that I watched, somewhat triumphantly, today as Jay took them and put them in the garden shed. This also is good.
I’ve got more freedom to move around than ever before, and I use it. Up and down on the chairs, around the kitchen, on Jay’s bed, under Em’s desk, behind the couch – you name it, I’ve done it. And I think this is very good.
But with all this knowledge and the concomitant liberty, is an apparent problem I seem to have with boundaries. I seem to have trouble figuring out what not to play with or touch.
I like playing with the dirt in the plant pots in the front window. Well, ‘playing with’ is a strong way of putting it: closer to the truth is ‘usually just put my nose in it as I’m walking by, unless I see something interesting, in which case I look both ways very innocently indeed, and then go for it’. Alright, I can see where that might be annoying.
I seem to have developed a taste for plastic – especially the stuff they use to wrap around wires. I know, I know, I shouldn’t be doing this, but it looks so interesting and you know, the deeper you get into it the flavour changes, and I keep expecting to hit a creamy filling or something.
They tell me (Em and Jay) that I should not be getting so excited when it’s time for them to eat dinner – or lunch, or whatever. Apparently, I make a lot of noise. Now, this is something I just don’t understand. I’m pretty sure – in fact I think I read it somewhere – that it’s my job to get excited when everyone around me is trying to be calm. I’ll have to check the manual to see where I found that before.
They tell me that when I meet a female of the opposite sex I should not still be getting piddle-pumpingly excited. Now this one does make sense to me, but I just can’t help myself. When I see a lady coming toward me it reminds me of all my many girlfriends – of Lois, of Dorothy, of Ida, of – well, of all of them, and my bum starts wiggling and before you know it I’m letting go! It’s embarrassing, yes, but I’m usually too busy hoping it’s them to really worry too much about embarrassment.
So you see, I do have a few boundary issues, but I still think I’m doing better. I’m figuring it out.
Slowly, but surely.