Scent of a Veterinarian

In this strip, Jon tries to reconcile his former glumness about women with his recent successful relationship with Liz. In the first panel, Jon repeats a customary lament about the supposed inability of the sexes to relate to each other. In the second panel, something clicks, pops, or lights-up inside Jon, and he realizes the accepted truism doesn't ring true. There are platitudes that are not cosmic truth, but trite ways to justify whatever bad mood you're in, and I think Jon recognizes the tinge of shrug-shouldered misogyny in "women are a mystery".

But Jon doesn't discard the idea entirely. He appends it with affection and admiration that closer approximates his experience with Liz. The new, weighted shift in meaning still holds, even if the punchline is motivated by a general affection for women and not Liz specifically, though that makes it sweeter. Women may be a mystery, after all, but Jon cannot pretend to be irritated or frightened of the idea. His method of expressing this is silly, but the sentiment is strong and positive. Little wonder, then, that Garfield would feel the need to belittle it, and therefore Jon and Liz's relationship, and by proxy all those with romantic interest in women. We don't need your hate speech, kitty cat!

The Naked and the Vet

Oh, weird. Sometimes in Garfield the Joke Logic gets so thick it's hard to tell if the gag is being mangled by the rules and realities of the strip, or if the writing is playing with the conventions of the same.

Panel 1: Liz, a professional who works with animals, tries to win a cat over not with treats, petting, or attention, but diplomatic conversation as if he were a respected equal. She is not without a history of speaking to Garfield, but it is usually to threaten him about holding still for shots, or as an ironic confidant for sarcastic remarks about Jon; the excuse for most other instances has been that she's talking to Garfield "as if" he understood, knowing that he does not.

Panel 2: Whether she pulled Garfield aside when Jon stepped out to the bathroom, or she has requested a moment alone with Garfield to have this important talk, the situation is so creepy, it's no wonder Garfield is frozen in disbelief and fright before discussion starts. Liz also doesn't have Jon's ability to hold naturalistic one-sided conversations with Garfield that make sense: as far as Dr. Wilson is concerned, she and Garfield spend the remainder of the strip standing there staring at each other.

Panel 3: Here's where I'm positive the Joke Logic is the joke itself; Garfield's discomfort is crazy, out of character, and silly on many levels. Not the least of which is that everyone sees him naked all the time. Not the least of which is that friends may see each other naked under all sorts of circumstances. Also-not the least of which is that Garfield's lament is supposed to parallel an uncomfortable turn in the doctor-patient relationship, but he doesn't disrobe before or share any personal information with the vet. Aw. He thinks he's people! And so the way a simple joke has confused itself becomes the joke itself.

Sockadelica

It may not have the iconic value of Pooky, or Garfield's box-bed for the public at large, but Jon's obsession with his own sock collection, and association of his dedicated sock drawer with the most intimate aspects of his life is well documented in Garfield. Overlooking the obvious weirdness of the premise, Jon's sentiment is a little heartening, because it shows that some part of him is trying to stay even-keeled on the subject of Liz. Given the excitement of any new relationship, compounded with Jon's extraordinary circumstances of loneliness, the overzealousness he's demonstrated already is being surprisingly well tempered by sweet concern for Garfield's feelings.

The Garfieldian thing to do is for Jon's happiness to, well, ruin his own happiness; the easy way would be if Jon smothered Liz with too much attention. This strip takes a trickier tack: Jon's idea of maintaining personal boundaries is confused and a little neurotic. While the sock drawer is a more intimate than public space, it's also a boring, commonplace space. So the Dear Abby advice we imagine when hearing Jon's version of privacy is nothing compared to the scene Garfield visualizes/ knows is coming. When Jon finally presents his sock drawer to Liz with some pride and a little embarrassment, I can only imagine she would not care at all. Disinterest in a man's sock drawer will be the unkindest cut of all.

Besides the mild perversity of Jon's fixation on his socks, the backbone of the joke is that even when Jon is ready to open up, there may not be much to reveal. The Garfield in us explains: Jon is boring. A happier explanation, and the reason Liz ultimately likes Jon: he has nothing left to hide, because he wears his heart on his socks. I mean "sleeve."

Bip Bip Boop

Gag panel: It's supposed to look like the line that composes Garfield as a drawing is spelling out his name. It looks more like his long, thin, prehensile right ear can form words.

Note 1: Jon and Garfield both look off-model today. Jon's philtrum/ mouth assemblage is not correctly placed, and Garfield's body parts look like a disassembled jumble. I do like how Jon looks not just disappointed in the final panel, but weary.

Note 2: This entire Sunday strip's content could be reduced to the bottom tier. I suppose the first two rows are for "pacing." Though do check out the first panel of the story proper: Jon isn't even expecting this call to go well. There is no hope on that man's face as he dials.

Note 3: Jon knows he screwed up. Garfield cracks a joke about Jon physically transforming into a monkey out of horniness... but neither of them seems to understand the real problem with Jon's simile. It's not that Jon has compared himself to a filthy simian who wants to gorge himself on female fruit. The problem is that Jon thinks he needs a simile to convey to a woman the extent of his desperation.

Note 4: Jon is lying. He just had a date yesterday.