Day 163: Be careful what you wish for

My Project: 365 Creative Writing Prompts

Day 163: Be careful what you wish for

Many years ago, I asked a Ragdoll forum member if this breed of cats can ‘talk’. “Can they talk,” she replied, “The question is, do they ever shut up!”

Once I had a Ragdoll myself, a rescue we named Gabriel, I was somewhat disappointed that he was a rather quiet cat. Occasionally he would utter a meow, but on the whole Gabriel was too laid back to make a fuss about anything.

A few months after Gabriel passed away, we adopted two more rescues, Halley and Greyson. I hoped and wished that one or both would be ‘talkers’, but for months they remained tight lipped.

Overnight that changed when Greyson found his voice. For the longest time he was a quiet little kitty cat, but no more. Ever since he found out that he can produce a sound, he's been talking non-stop. He cries for food, he cries for attention, he cries when he can't find one of his toys, he cries for everything.

And he's got different kinds of cries. Food has one cry, for attention has another cry, and when he can’t find his spring or toy mouse that’s another cry still. If you were to hear his cry for attention you would agree … it can melt a stone heart. Yes, it’s that pitiful.

In case you’re wondering why he cries for food … I have no idea. Greyson, along with the others get breakfast, for during the day they have dry nibbles, and around 7:00 p.m. they get their dinner. So they never go hungry and there’s really no need to cry.

Neither is there reason to cry for attention, as Charlotte, Holly, Halley and Greyson get plenty of pets and kisses. 

The thing is, when I’m peeling potatoes, Greyson wants to see what I’m doing. If Dieter is doing dishes, he wants to inspect the works, and when the beds are being made, Greyson makes sure the wrinkles are smoothed out (every cat lover will know what I mean by that). If Greyson is kept out of the loop, he cries.

As for crying if he can’t find one of his toys … well , that’s a different story altogether. Greyson’s favorite toy is a spring. When we first adopted him, Jackie (his foster mother) send him off with a packet of 10 springs, we bought an additional packet and later on another packet. That’s 30 springs altogether and he systematically lost them all. He knocks them under chairs, under the washing machine, the fridge, a cabinet … you name it. Every now and then when we clean under the sofa we find a few of those springs, but things are a little more difficult when retrieving them from under the fridge or the washing machine, those things are heavy.

Greyson knows this, where he put his springs I mean, not that the machines are heavy, and wants us to lend him a hand in getting them back. When we tell him no, or that we can’t do it, that’s when the crying starts. So what do I do … no, I don’t move the fridge or washing machine, I’m not Wonder Woman, I go on Amazon and order new springs.

Just goes to show, I wanted a talkative cat and now that I have one ...