English is my native tongue, and I don’t speak enough of French to dream in it. I wonder: do I speak dog? And if I dreamt in dog would I know that I dreamt in dog? I’ve had six dogs in my life over the course of my life. As I think about all of them, it occurs to me they may not all speak the same dog language. Over the course of several years, we lived with three dogs under one roof, and they appeared to communicate with each other—particuarly when walks and food were concerned. But perhaps it’s like huge countries such as India and China where there are so many languages, you can’t assume inhabitants all understand each other. I don’t understand some Americans who live in the southern part of our country, even!
Let’s not even get into speaking cat. I also have lived with many, many cats, more than dogs. I don’t think I speak cat at all, frankly.
I think parts of our country are not speaking the same “language.” Maybe that’s always been true to some extent, but it’s much more obvious now since Trump came on the scene. It may not be entirely geographical; I don’t know what it is, nor why we can’t seem to understand each other. We aren’t even talking to each other now. My guess is part of this is due to social media, which Trump has weaponized.
I am happy to hear the protests are back in full force in Israel to demand new elections to get rid of Netanyahu. I wonder if the protests will have any effect.
Happy Monday. I hope you had a restful weekend, I did. Thanks for being here.
Thurberesque shapes
I love this, Liza. I don’t speak dog or cat either. But over the years I’ve picked up bits and pieces. You probably have, too!
Their sense of smell is many times stronger than ours, so I wonder if they dream in smell. I imagine it’s wonderful.