Mind Your P's

The Mooj, as you might imagine, has been a bit miffed at being nuzzled out of the DODR limelight by, Lord help us, a dawg. Fortunately, I noticed Moojie sitting just so today in the pale afternoon light and snapped this portrait. He really has filled out to become a gorgeous beast, no? I love this stupid cat.

But let’s face it, the Flokster has a bit more drama driving his story. I’m tickled to tell you that the state of his legs has improved at such an amazing rate that he is now chasing the cat around and giving him fits. Actually, Mooj is secretly thrilled to have a playmate and surprisingly indulgent when certain canines do unspeakable things like gnaw on his tail or skootch up next to him with his slobbery tongue when we’re all snuggled together in bed. He does summon that hilarious feline look of outrage, but he doesn't move away. He might bop Floki, claws retracted, but that's it. What a good boy.

More than that, though, Floki recently became the focal point for an incredible moment of true cultural exchange.

I don’t know how many of you have tried to learn another language as an adult. It’s bafflingly difficult, a primal exercise in our eternal struggle to just be understood. But as you grapple with foreign concepts, inscrutable grammar, and pronunciation that seems beyond the capacity of your clumsy tongue and teeth, there sometimes shine through moments of sheer clarity when you know real communication has been achieved.

A perfect example occurred the other day when my Mongolian teacher Oyunaa came over for one of our thrice-weekly lessons. Tea was served, we settled in, made with some small talk, and then Oyunaa leaned in with this little scowl that creases her face sometimes, indicating a serious question. “Gonchig,” she asked, “how is the health of your poopy?”

Now I was a bit taken aback. Our conversations aren’t usually so personal. But I retained my composure and replied, “Well, Oyunaa, my, um, poopy has been good this time in Mongolia. No problems, really. Quite healthy, in fact. Thanks, um, thanks for asking. And...how’s yours?”

Oyunaa squinted at me like I was a specimen on a lab slide. “Gonchig, what you mean? How is your poopy?” she asked again, shooting her glance at Floki then back at me. “Your poopy!”

It took a beat for me to recognize the mistake but then I burst out laughing. “Oh, my puppy! Floki! My puppy. Oh, he’s just fine. Getting better all the time. Except for some problems, you know, with his poopy.” At which point my inner 12-year old took over and I had a whale of a time suppressing my giggles.

Once I did, though, I explained to Oyunaa the linguistic complexities of our exchange, complete with elaborate pantomime. She took it all in gravely, turning the elements over in her mind and I witnessed the very moment when she regarded the many little doots littering the newspaper around us and her mental flood lights switched on.

“Oh! I see! He’s a poopy puppy, isn’t he?” At which point her inner 12-year old joined the party and she couldn’t stop laughing.

Well, of course, I couldn’t let such an educational moment go to waste, so I proceeded to explain to her the term “peepee.” In the midst of our laughter, we agreed that Floki would be known to us as the Poopy Peepee Puppy. Shoulda named him Popeye.

And yes, our next solemn duty {snicker} was to translate that into Mongolian. In this country, Floki is the Баастай Шээстэй Гöлöг – Baastai Sheestei Gölög. Doesn’t have quite the same ring, does it?

Comments

[sisLaura]

Oh dear brother, what a wonderful laugh for my morning! I will open this for the kids this evening, and Paul, the real 12 year old, will certainly laugh his head off. There is something about the Baastai, though. He probably is one?

[Pixie]

Excellent stuff!
Just out of interest, do your animals join you at prayers/meditation?
I ask as I have several cats, two of whom never miss the opportunity to sit with me when Im praying/meditating. I like to think they are getting down with the Buddha vibe, and not just using me as a comfy spot whilst Im sitting still!

XXPixieXX

[Bolor]

hehehe

[minnie]

so, floki is better at minding his P's as well, eh? everybody needs to let their inner 12-year-old out more often. my 12 year old would have died over that!

[Carol]

One of my cats sits on my lap when I meditate too! It took me a while to learn not to be distracted by him.

[Rinchen Gyatso]

This doesn't have anything to do with animals, but after introducing a foreign friend to decaf tea, the next morning he told me, "I like it. Last night I only had to peepee once!"

[Julie]

Y'all are too funny!

Mooj is indeed a gorgeous beast! And so sweet to his baby puppy-brother.

Saaay (wagging finger), aren't you the guy in that video over at Mossy Cottage Knits? :)

[Crazy Nephew!!! :-)]

This is from a real twelve year old:

he he

heeheehee

Hoo hee hee

WAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!!!!

*GIGGLE*

whee.

[marylee]

I'm going to see our pal, Jacob this morning and I'll do my best to *translate* this story to him. I can't wait for his a-ha moment! It'll be a doozy of a laugh. Thanks!

[sarah]

Minizzle insisted that I hang that very handsome photo of The Mooj in her bedroom, ala the Rob Lowe poster I had when I was 12. She's decorated it with the inscription "I (heart) The Mooj" in glitter pen. Sigh.