Agonizing over my ferret friend’s latest escapade, (eating a frighteningly large piece of my coral colored skirt), provided me with a glittering example of why I gravitate towards writing stories with talking animals.
“Go, let us go down, and there confound their language, that they may not understand one another’s speech.”
Ok, I know Babel meant people, but do you ever think that the Powers That Be, whoever they are, might have come up short where our furry/scaled/winged counterparts are concerned? More often than not, our creature friends don’t and can’t show us what is wrong until it’s really bad…or too late. That’s hard.
Mandamus and Luco don’t have this problem. No one in the Silver Kingdom does. Everyone understands one another by speaking the “Common Language”…which conveniently happens to be English because, well, that’s what I speak. No inventing languages here. I’ll leave that to Tolkien who gave us Aragorn with his elvish speaking lips and smoldering eyes…
Right now, I desperately want Oliver and I to be denizens of the Silver Kingdom. If we were, I’m sure it would have went down more like this:
Oliver: Karai, I have an overwhelming desire to eat fabric. I think I’ll start with your lovely orange skirt.
Me: How about some poached salmon instead, my little mustelid munchkin. It’s orange, has protein and… it’s digestible!
Luckily, after a trip to an all night vet and a few doses of ferret “castor oil”, the little guy seems to be on the mend.
My skirt, however, did not survive.