Listen to You, I Will....

"You can attract more bees with honey than vinegar." Somebody's Mom

At one time, I think I was a cat person; even though, growing up, we probably had as many dogs as cats. The cats weren't thoroughbred anything, just regular cats. The last cat we had while I was still at home was a very beautiful long-haired calico. Her name was "Samantha." She was normal issue from the "Cat Aloof CATaLOG," but she seemed -- almost -- like a "sweet" cat. You know, the type that would make you think that you actually had any influence at all on what she did. But, she knew she was in complete control. And, she liked watching you believe that you were more significant to her than a dust bunny.

When my sister's second daughter was born about two decades later and they named her "Samantha," my first words really were "....they named her after the cat!" Of course, I had momentarily forgotten that the best man at their wedding - his best friend - was named Sam. My only lasting memory of Sam is of watching him faint right into the candles in the middle of the ceremony. From my Matron of Honor position, there was nothing to do but witness his fall to the floor. So many challenges on that day had already been overcome, it was almost not surprising.

I suppose I got my due on namesakes when we came to Colorado. We have a border collie named "DeeDee." She has more friends on Dogbook than I have on Facebook, and her name came with her from the SPCA. It has been said that, when I was a little girl in Cincinnati, Ohio, I was nicknamed "DeeDee" because that's what came out of my mouth when I tried to say "Cindy." I've been "Cynthia" since I declared it to be so at age 18. But, the fact remains that our dog is accidentally named after me.



Shortly after arriving here, I coined the phrase ".....when you cross the Colorado state line, they issue you your dog." It's not that far from the truth. This state is truly dog-crazy. That's true for most of the rest of the country as well. But the intensely bright 300 days of sunshine every year, coupled with a disproportionate display of jaw-dropping nature items per capita in Colorado, just bring out the dog in ya.



We put off getting our requisite dog until we moved into the new house and had the backyard landscaping installed. We scheduled most of it to be done while we were in Hawaii for the U.S. Youth Soccer Far West Regionals in the summer of 2003. After that, Mark and Meredith checked out the rescue candidates. Mark has a penchant for picking out the most intelligent dog he can find. He really likes smart dogs. I really like smart dogs, too except for the part where they need constant entertainment. Or, they'll eat the outdoor furniture. Not making that up -- I have the teeth marks on an expensive set of Smith & Hawkin teak pieces from "puppy" dude in northern California to prove it. He also managed to do about $2,000 in damage to the back yard there. How he found $2,000 worth of opportunity to inflict on that postage stamp-sized patch of green remains a mystery to me. I think it had something to do with digging up drainage pipe and confusing it with a food group.



So, when "Yoda Cat" showed up on the web yesterday with the four ears, I thought about whether the ears on a cat -- any cat -- were actually used for hearing. That is, do cats listen? Regardless of the number of ears on their heads?



I mean, really. Was their complete refusal in the past to do what I said due to the inability to hear with those little ears -- any or all of them -- or were they just ignoring me? Can you conduct hearing tests on cats? Would it change anything if you could?



I have never contemplated this question with respect to dogs. Even if they don't hear me or pretend they are not listening, they almost inadvertently move those ears in a moment of self-betrayal. They almost can't not listen. Or, at least pretend to be listening. Add their charming tilt of the head at the precisely correct moment, and, well, we just give them the benefit of the doubt.



But, I don't believe I've ever given a cat the benefit of the doubt. I'm not sure. I haven't lived in a household with a cat since I married a man that almost breaks out in hives at the mere mention of cat. It's no put-up job. During one of our periodic college break-up moments, I was thrilled to learn that he was subjected to the cats of a would-be new girlfriend at our church. I thought his all-over body rash was exactly what he deserved. A rebound girl with cats just made him miss me more. More importantly, she clearly did not match his girlfriend requirements, which I had already defined. (1) Dark hair - check. (2) Blue eyes -- No. (3) At least six feet tall. NOOOOOOOOOOOOO.

My Yoda Cat sighting on the internet last night coincided with my return home at 9:30 from a four-hour Architectural Review Committee meeting at the Highlands Ranch Community Association. I raised my hand for this position. After last night's Board vote, the group is finally back to five filled seats, after many months of gaps. All but one of us is new to the group in the last four weeks. A recent trio of architects resigned in a wordy snit after the Highlands Ranch Board of Directors overturned their denial of a home expansion request. Long story short, they were "serving" on this Committee for all the wrong reasons. Their egos finally caught up with their motives, so they picked up their toys and went elsewhere.



Last night was the first time since I was appointed that all of our scheduled 15-minute appointments showed up for a hearing. It's not surprising that a waiting list exists during planting season for these spots. But, it is a mystery why only one -- or none -- of the four appointments generally shows. Last night was different. Everyone was there, even a man without an appointment who wanted to be "in the room" when his application came up for review, in case we had questions. That was a smart man. His request for solar panel installation flew through like a Greased Pig because he was there to clarify a matter that promised to block approval otherwise.



The first of our four appointments was a man in a baseball cap. The two ears sticking out under the cap closely resembled Yoda Cat's bottom two ears, only bigger. He didn't seem to understand the nature of his opportunity to present his issue. I listened and listened. I could not determine what problem we were trying to solve. It became increasingly difficult to listen and comprehend when his presentation consisted of attacking the Highlands Ranch staff personnel in the room and pointing at each of the Committee members and making assertions about their state of mind based upon the "vibe" he was feeling from them. He didn't know my name, my background, or why I was in the room. But, he was 100% certain that I was "unfriendly" Etc. Etc. Etc. I don't even remember a time when I have been called "unfriendly."



Ultimately, long after he had left the room with a parting declaration that "you're all a bunch of Nazis," we voted 3-2 to approve his exception request. My vote FOR him was the tie-breaker. Not that he would care or appreciate it. There's a part of me that wonders if he will even take "yes" for an answer, since it came from a bunch of 'petty bureaucrats.' But, I assure you that he didn't win the vote because of his vast persuasion skills. He asked a lot of questions and refused to listen to the answers. He asked a lot of questions that I think -- in retrospect -- he only intended as rhetorical. That is, not considering the possibility that a real answer would be forthcoming. An answer that he might really need to ponder. An answer that would change his own opinion about his own request. He just wanted what he wanted.



The Committee needed about an hour of debate and consideration by five adults and two advisors to work through the matter of a two-foot encroachment of concrete in one of the newest neighborhoods. Unfortunately, the developer's plans for that particular plat set five-foot side yard setbacks. It we break the rule for him, we risk setting future precedent that is harmful to the vast majority of well-mannered, reasonable neighbors. But, we also want him to install his landscaping for the greater good of his neighborhood and the community at large. And, it must be said that our feelings won't be hurt if we never see him again.



I sincerely hope that this man does not conduct his other personal or professional business in a similar manner. More ear devices wouldn't help him much. Like cats, it's what's going on between the ears that could make the difference. For at least 15 minutes last night, I think Samantha would have been more responsive.