Friday, September 5, 2025
Everybody has a dog voice. I’m confessing here, but also outing you. Come clean. If you don’t have a dog voice, you have a cat voice. If you don’t have a cat voice, you have pet names for your partner and “baby-talk” for cute things. So now that we’ve established that we go all gushy for pets and partners and cuddly things, let’s come clean.
Your dog voice is warm, fuzzy gibberish. “Awww, pwecious baby wanna go bye bye?” “Who’s daddy’s widdle sweet, sweet, schunukums?” “Come ‘ere, pooky and give mama a widdle kiss…, schweet baby girl. Nyawwww.”
I try to talk to you in my dog voice, everyday on MMM. But I craft it in proper grammar, mostly. But I also pray you hear my kitty voice – “Come ‘ere noonie. Poor kitty kitty.” To read that correctly, pitch it up, put some sigh into it, and pooch your lips. Feel all warm and fuzzy. Soft kitty. Nice kitty. Puuuurrrr.
Pooky, pumpkin, sweetie, schukums, princess, pudding, darling – you name it. My grandmother called me “sha bébé.” That’s French for “cher bébé,” but pronounced “sha bay-bay” in Cajun. Basically it’s nonsense. Formalized language is dressed up nonsense. Stiff upper lip, intensity, and a pointed directive won’t attract anything worth having. It’ll come, but out of fear. The first chance afforded them, they’ll escape your prison. Never to return.
If you want anything of value, disguise your dog voice. You don’t need baby talk, just feel that mushiness within you, wherever you go. Even if silent, you’ll attract all sorts of goodies. Likely St. Francis was like this – animals came to him. You have to be soft. Jesus said, “the meek shall inherit the earth.” It’s getting down on “kitty’s level” that lulls, even if you’re talking about serious things. Just remember, purrrrrrrrr.