Day 4: Can cats talk

Between You, Me and the Lamp Post

Day 4: Can cats talk

Oh dear, it’s only day four and I’ve already hit a bit of a snag … I can’t think of anything to write about.

At times like these, I turn to my cats: Charlotte, Holly, Halley, and Greyson. Cat lovers will agree, our fur kids are a constant source of inspiration.

Take Greyson for instance. He recently celebrated his first birthday and with it, he developed an appetite for wallpaper.

Don’t for a moment think that the poor thing might be hungry because I can assure you that he’s not. Greyson, along with the others get wet food for breakfast and dinner and they have a constant supply of dry food to snack on during the day.

So why does Greyson go for the wallpaper? Just to be clear, he doesn’t eat it, he merely tears off pieces and then spits them out on the floor. First, he attacked one of the walls in the bathroom, then he moved on to the kitchen and finally had a nibble in the living room.

See for yourself …

Shortly before his first birthday, Greyson also found his voice and he’s been using it ever since. For the longest time, he was a quiet cat, his Toronto Cat Rescue foster mother described him as a Zen kitten. When there’s nothing Zen about him anymore.

He starts in the morning, practicing his vocal cords with a series of meows. Once warmed up he goes quiet.

Then he starts again in the evening. He talks to us, he talks to the other cats, he even talks to the walls. Now that creeps me out. He will sit by a wall, look up and start a flood of ‘words’.

Sometimes it gets so bad that we have to shut him up with a firm ‘Greyson, enough!’ He will go quiet for a while and then start again, talking to another wall.

When Greyson isn’t talking to walls, he tries to climb them. He will sit, calculate his move, and then jump as high as he can, front paws outstretched. Of course, he’s not going anywhere as he slides right back down. That doesn’t discourage him though, he’s a firm believer in … if at first you don’t succeed, try and try again. Which he does. Over and over again until he gets tired.

And when he gets tired, he curls up, or rather drapes himself in his favorite spot. This has been his favorite spot ever since he was a kitten. Once again, see for yourself.

When he’s awake, Greyson is a rather curious cat. Lately, he’s taking an interest in potato peeling, dishwashing, and laundry. When he sees me taking the potato bag out of the cabinet, he wants to see what I’m doing. 

When I fill the sink with water he will come and stand by me and let out a loud cry. That’s my cue to pick him up and put him near the sink. He’s afraid of the water and the soap bubbles, I can see that, but he will sit there and keep an eye on me.

The same with laundry. When I fill the machine with clothes, water, and soap, he wants to see what’s going on. When I pick him up he’s not just scared, he’s terrified, but cranes his neck to see. In the meantime, I’ve learned that a safe distance is of great importance to Greyson.

When I first pick him up he lets me know … a little closer, please. A step closer and he cranes his neck to see better. Closer still and he starts to squirm. One more step closer to the machine and the message is clear … that’s far enough.

Can cats talk … you bet they can, you just have to know how to listen.

Day 129: Bed acrobatics

My Project: 365 Creative Writing Prompts

Day 129: Bed acrobatics

When bedtime comes around, everyone has their own routine. Some people take a shower, others make a cup of chamomile tea, while others still read a few pages of a book to calm down. Me, I count my cats before turning in.

Most of the time, finding them is no trouble at all. Charlotte usually sleeps curled up by Dieter’s feet while Gabriel, Holly, and Halley are already on my bed. As such, getting into bed requires some acrobatics on my part. With a cat here and a cat there, getting a space to lie down takes a certain amount a sliding, twisting and turning to get under the duvet.

While some cats get up at the slightest movement, Gabriel, Holly, and Halley are like rocks, they don’t move an inch. I can push them, put a foot under them and try to lift them, it makes no difference whatsoever.

As soon as I turn off the light there’s movement though. Holly comes and drapes herself on my chest. Not only is this a considerable weight, it’s also quite warm. Welcome in winter, but not so much now in summer. Meanwhile, Halley likes to position herself on my head. Another source of heat.

Smart as they are, they know my routine though. As long as I’m on my back they can expect to be petted, but once I turn on my side, I want to go to sleep. So, they move. Now there’s another problem though … purring and snoring.

Holly likes to share my pillow, which is fine, but with her happy noises, it sounds like there’s a helicopter hovering near my head. As for Halley, she’s only a big baby, but her purring reaches quite a few decibels.

In the morning things are quite different.

Charlotte and Holly are late sleepers, but Gabriel and Halley rise with the sun. They seem of the opinion when we’re up everybody should be up. As such, Gabriel starts meowing, only he doesn’t meow like a normal cat, he pronounces meow as mayo, as in mayonnaise. When I try to shush him, he adds a few decibels. Not that I have any intention of getting up at whatever time he starts his nonsense.

Halley never asks for food, she knows she’ll get her breakfast in good time and until then she plays with her favorite toy, a plastic spring. Unfortunately, we have hardwood as flooring and when she chases the spring her nails make a scratching noise. It’s like an army of mice running around.

Eventually, I give up and get up.

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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.

Mickey a.k.a. Lassie

Earlier today I related the story of Chanel’s ‘disappearance’ and now the spotlight turns to Mickey.

Mickey, or shall I say ... 'Lassie’.

You remember Lassie, don’t you? The beautiful, smart Collie, who by barking, let his owners know that there was some kind of emergency. What an amazing dog that was. But, what Mickey did today is nothing short of amazing too.

Nothing stirred, everything was quiet and yet suddenly around 2:00 p.m. Mickey, who had been sleeping on top of the wall unit, got up, jumped on the floor and ran – not walked, but ran – to Dieter’s bedroom.

Within seconds he was back in the living room, looked at me and meowed. Not a ‘Hello’ meow, but a meow that demanded attention.

“What’s the matter boy?” I asked.

When Mickey saw that he had my attention he went back to Dieter’s room. I followed.

What I saw could have turned into a catastrophe, had it not been for Mickey’s sharp hearing and quick response. On the floor was Charlie, trapped in a box underneath Dieter’s desk.

Charlie must have jumped in that box (you know what cats and boxes are like), the box must have tipped over and the way the box was positioned, Charlie couldn’t get out.

Whether it was Charlie who signaled a 911 distress call, or Mickey who just picked up Charlie’s vibe that something was wrong, I don’t know, but thanks to Mickey, Charlie was saved. What a smart kitty cat.