An Empty Bowl,
Our Early Spring,
Trump & the Truth
“HEY, Cat, want to share my food?”
Cat was at my side in an instant. This took some doing on the big guy’s part. He’s “not young.” And he weighs “a lot.”
Also, Cat’s stomach – how can I put this delicately – doesn’t clear the floor, so there’s always a certain amount of drag that slows Cat’s progress.
It’s a touchy subject, no pun intended. Cat doesn’t deny that his substantial undercarriage “sometimes” makes contact with a floor he’s traversing; but he says it’s not always the case.
“It really depends on the height of the floor,” Cat explains. Of course, this makes absolutely no sense, since there are no variables: his stubby little legs are always the same length, so whatever flat surface over which he’s walking (or, rarely, running across), his stomach is always the same distance (zero) from the floor. Actually, I never argue the point. Even a cat needs his dignity.
ANYWAY, when Cat heard the words “share my food,” he took immediate action, especially since he knows that I NEVER share my food with him or anyone. (I know, it’s a shock, given my reputation as a “sweet dog.” But food is food is food, to paraphrase Gertrude What's-her-name).
“What? There’s no food in this bowl,” Cat said. “This bowl is empty!”
“Seems so,” I said.
“But you asked me whether I wanted to share your food,” Cat said, coming as close to tears that I’ve seen him.
“I didn’t say there was any food. Or that I was going to share it,” I said in my best Sean Spicer briefing room voice. “I just asked you whether you wanted to share my food.”
“But the bowl is empty,” Cat said, still shocked.
“As empty as Trump’s promises,” I said.
“POLITICS again?” Cat howled, wounded as much by having been suckered by a trick question, as by his disappointment in finding an empty bowl.
“Do you not think about anything else, Phoebe? You are one ugly, disturbed dog, no matter what people say about your ‘gorgeous’ eyelashes. Morning. Noon. And night. It’s ‘Trump this. Trump that.’ He won the election. It’s a fact: Donald J. Trump is president of the United States of America. Get used to it.”
“I can’t,” I said.
“Can,” Cat said.
“Because of the lies,” I said.
“What? You haven’t gotten used to the lies?” Cat said, incredulously.
“No, I haven’t gotten used to the lies,” I said. “In fact, it worries me that the other reporters who cover Trump seem to be adapting to his lies and starting to lose interest.”
“That’s because the guy lies all the time. Always has; always will,” Cat said. “I would think that you’d have figured that out by now. The people who voted for Trump figured that out. They just didn’t think that made him different from any of the other Liars-in-Chief.”
“Like who?” I said.
“You mean like whom?” Cat said. “Like: Barack ‘You like your healthcare plan, you can keep your healthcare plan” Obama. Like: George “Weapons of mass destruction” Bush. Like: Bill ‘I didn’t have sexual relations with that woman’ Clinton. And like: George ‘Read my lips: no new taxes’ Bush.”
“But Trump lies all the time,” I said. “He lied about his healthcare plan, better, cheaper, blah, blah, blah. But that plan is not better, not cheaper, and it’s not even his plan, it’s Paul Ryan’s plan. And thousands of people will die if they don’t get medical help. He’s lying about the phone taps at Trump Tower. He lied about the millions of fake votes. Lied about fake news.”
“And your point is?” Cat said.
“MY POINT is, there is no point to having a president who never tells the truth. Really, a president’s only job is to talk; to give speeches; and nowadays, to Tweet. And if nothing, not one word he says or Tweets, is the truth, what’s the use?”
“The answer is this," Cat said. "Get a life. Look on the sunny side. Look out the window. Spring is right around the corner. Spring is almost here. In fact, Phoebe, spring actually is here."
I looked out the window, just as Cat suggested. But the glass was covered with snow and sleet, so I could hardly make out the fake chickens on the deck. We were right in the middle of one of the worst March winter storms in memory.
“I see what you mean,” I said.
Cat disappeared. his stomach dragging silently across the floor, leaving me with my empty bowl.