Accidental techie

You may not have picked up on this yet, but I was adopted into a French household. The first thing she did was change my name from Wawona to Percival (spelled Perceval as far as they’re concerned) and voila, I was French. This may seem trivial, and I’m still working on the whole bilingual thing, but boy, do I fit right in! I dig raw meat, raw cheese; I feast on the bread left out on the counter, and spit it out in disgust if it’s not Parisian style baguette. I practice soccer in the back yard with special attention to head-butting the bench, my very own Matterazzi. The hardest part for me – and you’ll undoubtedly agree that this is pivotal in passing as French – is learning to complain.
I am possibly the most enthusiastic being you have come across (I was, after all, born in California). Whether it be going out for a walk, coming back home, getting to cuddle on the couch with her, absolutely everything deserves to be celebrated. But since I know it makes her proud, whenever I notice the slightest signs of injustice, I let my voice be heard, I take it to the streets! Well, maybe not the streets, she doesn’t really let me out there on my own, but I certainly take it out to the living room.
I don’t know if it’s the French influences kicking in, or if I’m really being shortchanged, but lately, I’ve noticed something just isn’t right. You’d think, as an only child, I would be the center of attention. Think again. I am constantly competing with screens! Sure, she takes me to the office with her, they all take regular breaks to come play, cuddle, or smoke cigarettes with me, but between breaks, when they are “working” on youtube, I have to resort to sitting on their laptops to establish my presence.
Our morning walks used to bring us closer, trudging up the hill to a breathtaking view of the city…or the fog. We would exchange conniving looks before faking each other out in touch football. Sometimes, she would sit down and lovingly watch me as I wrestled with a new friend. Last week, she put some weird things over her ears and didn’t bother to share her hilarity…Well, I happen to have excellent hearing, and do not find it amusing that we are not on speaking terms with Zapatero.
When she sits on the couch, I can usually pull off a cute pause to distract her from the TV and convince her to indulge in my very own péché mignon: Tug of War, but last time, she was laughing…that same laugh – a mixture of disbelief and hope. I was pouting in a corner, but something about lipstick being the sole differential between me and the vice-presidential candidate…please. She can see Russia from her house! All I see from my house is fog, or on a lucky day, a hill that I’m not climbing because someone is playing scrabble, checking her e mail, or catching up on politics on that stupid laptop.
Remember how I said I took things to the streets/ living room? Well, I tried. One day, she came back from a 3 day trip, I threw her the regular over enthusiastic party, and what did she do? She checked her e mail, and headed straight for the hot tub (don’t even get me started on the hot tub). I was furious! Furious, humiliated, although still happy as ever to have her home; I had to find another culprit – I don’t know how to hold a grudge against her. Well, while she wasn’t looking, the laptop and I had a little heart to heart. All I can say is that there was biting involved and I let that laptop have it! Then she came out of the hot tub, and, well, frankly, I’d rather not talk about it.
She uses this ringing device to talk to her family. The slightest sound and she’s on it. It’s all in French, and as I’ve said, I’m working on the bilingual thing. I’m not sure how this works, but I usually end up staying home while she’s out having fun. I figured, if I can work that ringing device, I might have some fun of my own. One morning, while she was in her shower, it rang, and I tried to answer. I’m not sure why, but every time I try to explore my inner techie, I end up in the doghouse.