Cats have a language all their own. There are surprises along the way like when I heard but didn’t recognize Morgan’s hunting cries last week. I can interpret most of them.
Jake – my old, now deceased, cat was the most vocal and interesting. He was from the ‘hood…or maybe Jersey or New York. (He sounded like something out of the Rocky franchise or maybe Good Fellas.)
He had a few good lines. For one thing he called me “Cupcake.” I have no idea why. Maybe because I was reading the Stephanie Plum detective series when he was younger. (He read occasionally or maybe he was just putting his scent or hacking a hairball on my books.)
Here are some of his gems:
Yo Cupcake, grab me a tuna juice from the fridge. Can’t move. The chipmunks running Olympic trials out there. Maybe they need a judge. I could use a snack.
(This one to Morgan) Hey Toots, get your nose outta my business. You know I can spray, doncha?
(To Mollie, the first new cat after he was here. She tried to teach him about the birds and bees before we got her spayed. Fortunately he already had his business snipped and wasn’t interested. This was overheard shortly after Morgan joined the crew.) Hey Molls, waddya think of the new kid? Kinda pain in the ass, doncha think?
(To anyone in general) Cool dude has arrived! I can take your presents now. Bring ‘em on.
(To the staff) What? Service on strike around here? I haven’t eaten in over an hour. I’m diabetic. I need my food. Pronto!
(To anyone with a camera) Damn paparazzi! Are you from Cat Fancy? Be sure to get my name right. I am not Morris! Morris is a red cat. I’m a black panther cat. Send the check to my agent. Include Friskie samples and no damn diet stuff either.
(To anyone sitting) Hey yo! You’re in my chair. (Didn’t matter which chair. Whichever one you were in was the one he wanted.)
Aw Jake, may he rest in peace. There aren’t many cats like him.