The other day, Winston decided he needed to have a long talk with Greg and I. As we brushed our teeth and prepared for our day, he jumped onto the counter in our bathroom and meowed incessantly.
“Mew, meow, meoooow,” Winston said.
“Can you imagine how frustrated he must be?” Greg asked. “He’s trying to get through, but all he can say is ‘meow.'”
“So you think he understands us, but we can’t understand him?” I asked.
“Maybe he’s brilliant, and we don’t realize it because we can’t understand him,” Greg said. “What if the Buddhists are right? What if we do come back reincarnated?”
I leaned over and peered into Winston’s startled, green eyes. “Einstein? Is that you?”