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We dog-sat for a friend's dog over thanksgiving weekend, and that poor pup definitely worshipped whichever human was currently petting it. A little odd for me - I personally prefer the emotional detachment that cats radiate - less pressure, IMO.
The couple for whom I frequently house-sit has a mutt who seems very fond of the ground I walk on. It's hilarious -- she whines and fusses at me when I show up, as if she's scolding me for having been away too long.
My cat is an ill-tempered little effer who hates me. The feeling used to be mutual, but I'm warming to him since he is so sweet with the baby. While he would tear the face off any adult who so much as looked at him wrong, Mr. Baby can grab a hunk of fur and get off with a gentle, clawless swat. Good kitty.
One of my cats will follow me around in the morning, but I think it's more because she wants to be petted than because she worships me. The rest are more like roommates.
The Bees is visiting this week (for Haunukkah!) and we have gotten over our mutual awe. i am the one who can be manipulated into whipping strings around for her ungodly amusement, which makes her trill like a bird. It's not worship but she is effortlessly charming and acts like she loves me madly. She is definitely my little muse. She can make hand turkeys and jazz hands and melts into purring glissandos when i hold her.
i love her.
ethylene, I laughed when I read your post. The Bees! There's an Irish saying when someone is very full of themselves.
"Sure he think's he's the Bee's knees and Thrush's ankles!"
(but I'm guessing it's just your pet's name?)
It's Beatrix, named with every intention of calling her The Bees. i was worried about where the bees were and what was happening to the bees. And the knees, of course. She is her own pajamas. (The USians use to pair the bee's knees with the cat's pajamas.)
I used to refer to Crosbie the dog and my late cat Leo as my "roommates", but eventually realized that came off as inappropriately commitment-phobic. No worship occurs here, though. We're a skeptical, agnostic household.
Ethylene, I like the Wodehouse variation, which is the bee's rollerskates.
Oh, and while I have everyone's attention: I am NOT MY DOG'S MOM.
Kaylee adores her Papí and really, really likes me. Oliver is the only one of our cats that seems to adore anyone and that would be me. It used to be the mister but he's a fickle cat (the addition of Kaylee to the household probably influenced his transfer of affections). Mingo is really attached to me as well, but I don't think it's adoration yet.
Theo is needy and worships everyone while at the same time feeling terribly responsible for everyone; therefore, he becomes confused easily and barks in worry. Django is just happy all the time no matter what and, being one with everything, worships me, everyone else, squirrels, Theo, the car, a cloud, tennis balls, rawhide bones and more or less anything else that crosses his field of vision with equal adoration.
My worthless mutt worships no one, and barks, inconveniently, at nothing. I'd have had him put down, years ago, but my Dad liked him, and wanted him as a pet. However, my Mother had put her foot down, and had just finally got my Dad to agree to have me take the blind, arthritic, incontinent 16 year old elk hound my brother, who lived with them, kept, to the vet, to put to merciful sleep. She didn't want another dog.
But Dad did. And his next door neighbor was giving away a "free" dog. 1/2 lab, 1/2 chow. All black.
So, I took this stupid, silly, worthless (as in free) mutt, and cleaned him up, and got his shots, and had his cryptorchidism fixed, and got him a chip. And I fed him, and walked him, and taught him some basic safety commands, so much as his limited brain could absorb. For the time and money I spent, I could have had a real dog. But this mutt was never supposed to be mine.
But Mom died, and six weeks later, so did Dad. And so, I've got Dad's dog, still.
You know... with felines it can be a little bit hard to tell (or a lot!), but I do think I was sort of worshipped by my late cat, at least to the degree that I probably somehow represented "momma cat" and comfort to her.
I say this because when she had kittens (and she had them, literally on my feet, in my bed, under the covers, as I slept), she was the typical totally protective, totally absorbed mother who hid them in away in a spot that she was finally completely comfortable with after moving them a few times, and she spent all day every day for some time doing nothing but nursing them and licking them healthy and whatever it is that mama cats do... except for about a half an hour or so, every night, when she would creep out from her established nursery and come lay on my chest once I was in bed, and stretch out, and purr and purr, and touch my face with her little paw, and look soulfully into my eyes.
I don't think that she did this to reassure me that she still loved me too, but because as a totally obssessed mother, she still needed/wanted a bit of mothering of her own, and I was that for her; I was the thing that loved her, and took care of her, and worried about her, and it was incredibly touching to me, that she saw me in that way, and seemed to need me that way.
photo by splunge
photo by TheophileEscargot
photo by Kronos_to_Earth
photo by ethylene
