I talked to the cat again last night. Not in some effed up "Son of Sam" type way, but we conversed. It may have to do with my refusal to talk "baby talk" to either babies or animals, thinking that they are just as important as anyone else we converse with...therefore are also deserved of the same treatment in respect toward conversational intercourse. That being said, a dialogue.
P: What?
Jazz: Mrrorw.
P: What?
Jazz: Mrrrr
P: Are you hungry? Did you want wet food or something?
Jazz: (walks forward and flops on my toes)
P: Well, could you maybe wait a half an hour or so? I was gonna go for a run
Jazz: (purrs while I scratch him with my toes)
P: Is that cool?
Jazz: Mrrrwow
P: I'm sorry, I don't speak Chinese. Well I understand Cantonese, just not Mandarin.
Jazz: Mao
P: Yes, Chairman Mao. (Bends over to pet his cuteness, only to have the cat launch up and bite the tender webbing between my thumb and forefinger.) Look, I don't agree with Communism either, but you brought it up!
Jazz: Murrr. (Runs off to flop on living room rug.)
He proceeds to interfere with me the entire time I'm trying to stretch out- curling into my legs, back, and anywhere else he wants petted. It limited my stretch time, and probably is the reason why I'm bloody sore today. We had a talk about it later, and I believe he agreed to not interfere the next time I jog. At least that's what I think "Mrrreeor" means. It could also mean "Fuck off" for all I know. Cats have tempestuous natures.
I get punchy on two job days. And yes, he did get his wet food after my jog, the little bastard.
2 comments:
I talked to Latts Cats when he and his family were in CA. They were far more cordial than Jazz. And Fatter. Much, much fatter. (I tried giving them some fitness tips, but I think that I may have inadvertantly insulted them.)
Stinky and I converse all the time too. Last night it was the "ma, I am in one of those moods, let me show you" nights. Fun times at 3:30 in the morning.
You are not the only one who talks to cats that way....trust me.
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