Bow How Ha elections

You humans have us meditating, contemplating.  All this brouhaha over what you call elections. By the way, we love this word – brouhaha, not elections.  It sounds so doggie-ish, you know like bow how ha, that it is indeed our WOD (Word of the Day).

Everywhere we turn, we see you people discussing ‘elections’ and showing your fingers – in a politically correct way, we mean.  We too want to be a part of it.  How come Universal Adult Franchise does not include us? Our votes would go to those who know why they are there, and ensure our basic needs are met ( throw in some comforts too), make us feel secure and glad that we chose them, and treat us like we matter generally and not just when it suits them.  Goes without saying – for us the office goes to our Folks.  They would be the public servants or whatever you call ’em of SnuZaland.

However,  things are not so simple for you.  We understand the deficiencies in your DNA that take you away from simple contentment, and sympathise.  Back to where we started – some contemplation.

First of all, in SnuZaland it is not all about what the other can do for us but also how we can do our bit.  We know our part is to make your lives better.  We have made no bones in the past about how humans need to be grounded for being selfish HS types (Grounding humansOf poo packets and HS types).  It is not a one-way street.  Having made our stand clear on rights and responsibilities, we are at the end of our profound thought. Honestly, we don’t know how to proceed. Call it writers’ block if you will, or maybe we just do not fathom humans!

Actually, various things have happened or do happen that upset us.  A couple of months ago, our cook, whom we adore because she has the most delicious smells emanating from her sari, was nearly in tears.  Her husband had met with an accident and she had him treated in what she called a ‘private’ hospital, saying she did not trust the ‘public’ one.  Beats us why, and what the distinction is because we know only one vet who seems a decent enough guy except for the horrible feel of the metal table in his place.  Every time Big Sis leaves home for college or to meet friends, Mom gets all worked up, asking her over and over again how she is going, what time she will be where, and whether she will stay in touch to let Mom know all is well.  Heaven help if she should be even a few minutes late in getting back: we can sense Mom’s tautness even if she tries to be a cool Mom (which she otherwise is 😎).  We continue to be puzzled at the dangers besetting the path from Point A to Point B.  Mom and Big Sis often have this argument in the car about how Big Sis’ expectation of everyone obeying traffic rules is misplaced because half the drivers do not know them because licences are obtained fraudulently and when things go wrong there is no guarantee things will proceed according to law, assuming someone is not left to bleed to death before taking up the fight… by the end of it, those in the rear seat of the car are left perplexed about what kind of a world humans have created.  Talking of drives, it is not very pleasant being bounced around as the car behaves like a moon buggy bouncing over craters.  It is even less pleasant to hear Mom lose her usual cool and use colourful language for those who take her hard earned money as a variety of taxes and not use it for the “basic amenities for us common citizens”.

We are rather scholarly creatures: our thirst for knowledge is more than satisfied when our hair is twirled between Big Sis’s fingers as she studies for her tests.  She tells us a lot of stuff out of her books – public office, law, order, public health, education, and what have you.  Give us the Universal Adult Franchise and our vote will go to the one who will wipe our cook’s worry lines off her face because the ‘public’ hospital has what she needs; who ensures Mom’s nerves are calm when Big Sis steps out for she and others like her have nothing to fear; who sees to it that our drives are pleasant and poised; and who puts those grand words we hear in books in everyday practice for everyday people living their everyday lives.

Still, we wonder at your choices.  You don’t have it as easy as we do.  Our Folks are not in the running and you do not live in SnuZaland. As we peer over Mom’s shoulders while she sips her morning tea and checks her phone, this is what we see:

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So we can’t tell who will fulfil the suggestions we have listed a few lines before.  Probably we are expecting much too much of you and yours.  Calls for some more contemplation and soul-searching.  Not ours this time – yours ….







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