To Dee Dee with Love

When Loni and Burt filed for divorce, it sent a warning to my cholesterol burdened heart. Theirs seemed to be a marriage made for Hollywood. If they couldn't work it out, who among us could?

The news struck a little too close to home. These were nearly my in-laws after all. My nearest brush to fame, my very first "girlfriend" (way back in kindergarten) was a young Dee Dee Haselberg. Deidra, of course is Ms. Anderson's now married daughter.

Burt and Loni proved relationships are fragile things. Even the healthiest can disappear overnight. Which brings me to my domestic associate, Max the Cat. Currently, we are house sitting my sister's mansion in Lake Elmo. The place is huge and is occupied by Max's cousin, Mr. Ralph.

Mr. Ralph is a big cat. A fat cat. He is the only cat who makes Max (who is no mite himself) look minuscule in comparison. Mr. Ralph gets to roam the huge acre of a yard that lies behind the mansion. He chases deer, dodges eagles and kills an occasional gopher- all experiences my friend, the declawed Max can only dream about.

I let Mr. Ralph out in the morning allowing him to roam while I go to work. (We're too far away from the nearest neighbor to worry about Mr. Ralph bothering them.) I'm sure Max watches him intently (and dreams) from a window above. When I get home, Mr. Ralph often comes around front to greet me and comes into the house with me. Poor Max watches us and probably thinks Mr. Ralph and I have spent the whole day frolicking in the wilderness together. Can cats feel jealousy?

Max watches as I scratch Mr. Ralph's stomach, and slowly, sadly walks away. I'm beginning to believe that when Max and I are back home in our apartment, he thinks I go cheat on him and play with Mr. Ralph (since the Lake Elmo mansion is the only other place he has ever seen me at). In reality, I'm off at work earning the money to keep us going.

I feel bad for my cat. Mr. Ralph and I go back a long way, but he's only a friend; Max is my pet, my buddy. We are supposed to be &dung on some similar characteristics. Being neurotic isn't something I want to pass on.

I can say all the right things to Max, I can make it appear he's the only cat in my life, but it's useless unless I convey the accurate attitude. That's a difficult thing to do. I spend more time with Max than Mr. Ralph when I'm at the mansion, yet I can't let Max outside other than our infrequent walks. I know he wants to join Mr. Ralph-it's in his blood. Talking doesn't work, because it's not the words so much, it's the tone of voice which I can't conceal. This is a lesson that can be applied to the workplace.

Last week, three consecutive phone callers apologized to me after asking a question. Apparently my voice was coming across too harshly, making me sound impatient and grumpy. That wasn't what I was feeling at the time (one of the rare occasions in my life) so I was a bit taken back by the apologies. I was tired, and I conveyed the wrong attitude even though my words stated a different meaning altogether.

That the way you say something can be more important than what you are saying, isn't exactly an exclusive, earth shaking revelation. But it is an important thing that is easy to overlook.

So just like my talks to Max, if I send my condolences to Burt and Loni, I have to make sure I use the proper tone of voice.

We can only hope that all is well with myself and my domestic associate. And we can only pray that someday we will be able to deal with the sad break up of Burt and Loni. They seemed so perfect. ...