Cat language

Does your cat meow?  Mine don’t.  None of them.  They each produce a sound that is supposed to pass for a meow, but doesn’t even come close.

We’ll start with the youngest, Gabriel.  Not only was he not paying attention when his mother gave him speech lessons, he wasn’t even in the room.  When he opens his cute little mouth he says “mee”.  Sometimes it’s short, sometimes he stretches out the “meeeeeee” like he’s singing a song. 
It sounds so sad, so utterly pitiful.  Whether he’s crying for food, to get a head rub or to be let into the bathroom, his mournful plea cannot be ignored. 

Next up, Mickey, another one who never learned how to speak cat language properly.  He doesn’t even try.  When Mickey tries to say something he doesn’t get any further than “Eh” or “Ei”.  It’s quite cute, but completely useless.  Not that he’s much of a talker to begin with, he only makes an effort when he wants to play with his laser light.  Once play is over, that’s it for the talking.
He might make an effort to get into the bathroom, but Mick prefers to scratch the door.

Then there’s Charlotte.  Charlotte has a deep, raspy voice, making her meow sounds like “meih”.  Her cry reminds me of a shy old sheep.  Charlotte knows how to purr though, something Gabriel nor Mickey have quite mastered.  Oh they purr, but very, very softly.  Charlotte on the other hand has quite an engine.

Last but not least, Chanel.  Chanel is the talker of the family. She has a whole repertoire of sounds but a proper “meow” isn’t one of them.  Whenever we talk to her, she politely answers, ranging from “mei”, “meei”, “eeeeh” to “mooow”.  Most comical is when she says “now”.  When we ask her “When do you want your food?” she replies with “now”.  When asked again “Do you want your food now?” she’ll confirm that she wants it now.

As for purring … nobody purrs like Chanel.  Whoever she curls up with in bed can forget about sleeping.  She purr so enthusiastically that she sounds like a low flying helicopter.

Cat language … not the easiest language to understand, yet Gabriel, Mickey, Charlotte and Chanel seem to have no problem understanding me.

Accidental or deliberate?

Last night Gabriel joined me in bed, as he does every night.  As usual he wanted to have his head rubbed, his belly tickled and his head rubbed some more. 

Usually he sleeps late (as I do) and we get up together.  Not this morning though.  I woke up from a scratching on the door, followed by “Meow, meow”.

“Ssst,” I shushed sleepy.

This didn’t work, Gabriel cried and kept on crying, he pleas getting louder and louder.

“Gabriel,” I said, “come back to bed and go to sleep.”  In reply he scratched the door some more and let out another couple of “meows”.

“Gaaaaaabriel,” I groaned, “pleeeeease!  It’s too early, come back to bed.”

Gabriel wouldn’t hear of it and meowed more insistent than before.

“GABRIEL!” I yelled, now fully awake.  “What is it with you?  It’s too early."

 
“Meow” he said in response.

I could have just gotten up and let him out of my bedroom, but it’s was so warm in bed and I wasn’t quite ready to leave, even if it was only for a few seconds.

To my relief Gabriel left his spot by the door and jumped on my bed.  He didn’t curl up though, he stepped on the bed’s headboard and sat there.

I turned over, snuggled under the covers and was just about to doze off when something hard landed right snack on my head.   A stone duck was the culprit, knocked down courtesy of Gabriel he couldn’t keep his paws to himself.  He knocked that duck down to get back at me for not letting him out.   

Accidental or deliberate?  One thing is for sure, when he start meowing tomorrow, I’ll open the door, who knows what else he has in mind.

From there on my day didn’t exactly get better. 

While I was working on the computer later on, I suddenly heard a “tonk”, followed by “splat, splat, splat”.  I was still trying to figure out what the strange noise was when I noticed something moving on Dieter’s nigh stand, where he keeps a fish tank.

On the night stand was a tiny fish, flipping and flapping like crazy.  I immediately rushed to the rescue, but picking up a tiny, slippery fish proved more difficult than I expected.  After a couple of futile attempts I resorted to wiping the fish with one hand into my other hand.  Much like one would brush crumbs off a table.

I worked and once I had the fish I deposited him back into the water.  Oh my heart, my poor heart.  Even though I managed to stay calm during a crisis, once it was over I nearly went horizontal.

I had to tell someone, I had to share this near horrible experience.  So I called the owner of the fish, Dieter.  And what did he do when I told him the horrible tale?  Not what I expected.  He wasn’t shocked, he wasn’t worried, he wasn’t even sympathetic, he … burst out laughing.  Thought the whole thing too funny.  He even posted it on Facebook!

First a cat, then a fish … maybe I should stick to a bird or something.