Pet project: a stroll down memory lane
Several recent experiments suggest that animals can visit the past and future in their minds, in ways similar to humans. -- The
Speak, Memory. Woof, woof.
"They seemed like a nice enough family at the time," Nikka the Airedale recalled many years later. "The little one was certainly affectionate. The father, not so much. He had wangled some kind of deal, he knew my mother's owner, and if he signed a paper agreeing not to let me breed -- thanks, Mr. Beam! -- the kennel would sell me for $100. That was so typical, that he would drive all the way to Rhode Island just to save a few bucks."
Speak, Memory. Meooow.
"What a coincidence!" remarked Einstein the cat of questionable pedigree. "He bought me for $25 at Debbie's Petland just before they jacked up the prices to $100. It's as if he was acting on inside information. Does PETA know about this?
" But I'm not one to complain. At least he pays the heating bill, and I can more or less count on three squares a day. Two of which you eat when they leave the basement door open. No wonder you're so fat!"
Nikka: "Watch that sandpapery tongue of yours, hairball spewer. I'm full-figured. How did you get that funny name, anyway?"
Einstein: "Ah, therein lies a tale. My predecessors all ended up as cat pancakes under the wheels of suburban Moms hot-rodding their SUVs down the Beams' side street. Not me. I look both ways before crossing, and if the driver is under 45, I just hang out on the sidewalk for a while."
N: "What makes you so smart?"
E: "It's a cat thing. You'd never understand."
N: "What about the coyotes?"
E: "What about them?"
N: "Don't they frighten you? One walked into a Quizno's the other day. They're all over."
E: "You believe those scare stories they publish in the papers?"
N: "You read the papers?"
E: "Only until I get my own Internet connection. Coyotes don't scare me. They're looking for fluffy little poodles to chow down on. You're part poodle, aren't you?"
N: "Don't let the curly hair fool you. I'm not one of those genetic Labra-freaks. I hail from a long line of otter-killers. My ancestors fought in World War I."
E: "My ancestors had the pyramids built for them. Don't start in on genealogy; it's a loser issue for you."
N: "Do you remember when I arrived at the Beam household?"
E: "Do I ever! It was 37 years ago. I remember it well."
N: "As if. It was 33 years ago. My first memory was: 'This place reeks of cat!' "
E: "Back off. I bathe."
N: "Me, too."
E: "No, you get bathed. There's a world of difference. The point is, I got here first. If Mr. Beam's allergies hadn't started acting up, this would still be my house."
N: "Allergies? You must mean his hypochondria. What do you care? You're doing fine in the basement. Although I couldn't help noticing all those mousetraps down there. Someone must be lying down on the job."
E: "It's weird. He bought four different mousetraps, to see which one worked best. He was going to write about it in the newspaper."
N: "Fascinating. No one calls him Einstein, I've noticed."
E: "None of the traps work, so everyone's looking to me. Catching mice is hard work, believe me. They're quicker than they used to be. And it's not like the otter population has declined since you got here."
N: "That's the coyotes' job, not mine. So, where do you see yourself in five years? Still hanging around the basement, working the scoreboard for the Mouse Olympics?"
E: "Naaah. I've got plans. I've seen the world. I know my options. Unlike you, I don't have to have someone dish me out a bowl of Kibbles every day to stay alive."
N: "It's a cat-eat-cat world out there. If I were you, I'd think twice before leaving the Beams. A diet of slow sparrows and leftover road kill gets boring after a while."
E: "I'll make the right choice. How about you? What does your future look like?"
N: "A future without you sounds pretty nice to me right now. Finally I could get the attention I deserve."
E: "Funny. I was just thinking the same thing."
Alex Beam is a Globe columnist. His e-dress is beam@globe.com. 
