I do not have a pet voice.
I would just like to make that perfectly clear.
I speak to my pets in the same mature, dignified voice I use with everyone else.
Except apparently I don’t.
Because somewhere along the way, “Would you like to go outside?” became:
“DOES MY WIDDLE BABY WANNA GO OUTSIDE? DOES HE? DOES HE WANNA GO PEE-PEES?”
I am 62 years old.
I pay bills. I have a job. I make responsible adult decisions.
And yet I have stood in my kitchen asking a dog:
“WHO’S THE HANDSOMEST BOY IN THE WHOLE WIDE WORLD?”
And waiting for an answer.
Then there are the conversations.
Not commands. Conversations.
“Winston, I have to go to work.”
Winston stares.
“I know. I don’t want to go either.”
More staring.
“Someone has to pay for your treats.”
Judgmental stare.
“Oh, don’t give me that look.”
I have now had an entire argument with someone who has contributed absolutely nothing to the conversation.
And WHY does the voice get higher when they’re being especially cute?
Normal me: “Come here.”
Pet me:
“COME HERE YOU LITTLE FLUFFY WUFFY MISTER MAN!!!”
If another adult walked into the room at that exact moment, I would immediately clear my throat and pretend nothing happened.
“Anyway… Winston and I were just discussing current events.”
And don’t even get me started on the nicknames.
One perfectly respectable pet name somehow turns into 37 completely ridiculous variations that bear absolutely no resemblance to the name on the vet records.
But here’s the best part.
They understand the voice.
Use your normal voice? Mild interest.
Use The Voice?
Tail wagging. Ears up. Full attention.
So no, I don’t have a pet voice.
I have a specialized interspecies communication system.
And I will not be taking questions. 😂🐾
Arctic Blonde Society — where dignity goes to die the minute the dog walks into the room.
