Talking to buddy
Dec. 8th, 2011 01:43 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
spatchI dislike "cat blogging" in excess and I've probably discussed some of this before, but today Abbie and I had a conversation that I wanted to share. He's fourteen and a half years old, and I've had him since he was six weeks old. In that time we've gone through a lot together, and we've learned how to talk to each other effectively well. I can recognize certain meows of his: the echolocation meow, the "somebody come and play" meow, the "I'm in the room now, at ease" meow, and the "But I want it NOW" meow.
And I've learned how to respond to him in ways that he understands. He's learned his name, and has matched his pitch roughly to the one I use when I talk to him. He also mimics the upward inflection we use when asking questions, though I'm not sure if he's connected that with demands or uses it cause he hears it a lot. He also understands "Okay" and "Go ahead", but probably because they're said in a friendly tone, not like "No" or "Get down", which he'll recognize of course but ignore.
Diane Duane, in her brilliant "Book of Night with Moon" series, holds forth that cat language is a lot more sophisticated than just meows. It also involves body language, posture, location relative to one another, and even eye contact or the lack thereof. And most cat owners will tell you that's certainly the case. (Everyone probably also has a story similar to this one here, so let's hear 'em, gang!)
Abbie's version of please, for example, is a gentle extending of the paw at whatever it is you're currently eating. It's almost a pathetic Oliver Twist gesture, but it also says "I could swipe that stuff outta your hand at any time, and don't you forget it." He also knows the best way to wake me up and get me to do something is swat at a plastic bag, because I will move heaven and earth to get him to Stop Doing That Dammit.
But he has an even more polite version of please: He just sits down next to me and gently headbutts my leg. That can mean either show me attention or take a look at the food dish when you can, you know, no big rush, I can wait for now. For now I said.
He stays gentle for the most part, because beyond the vacuum cleaner fear he's a very relaxed cat. Of course he is. He's an indoor cat who holds court in a purple papasan throne with a catnip plant growing directly above him. It dangles so tantalizingly close he could just reach up and nip a piece off if he wanted, the hedonistic little Caesar.
Today I was trying to shoo Abbie out of a room so I could head out for lunch. He was sacked out on a pillow and showed no interest in leaving. I started by petting him and doing the rump-patting thing, which usually gets a cat right up on their feet so you can gently send them on their way. Abbie, however, was having none of it.
He had a hind paw sticking out as he lay down, so I reached over to grab it and push it over, motivate him that way. Instead, as soon as I took his hind paw he quickly moved his head around and took my hand, very gently, in his mouth. It was not an aggressive move. He's not a regular biter. He did not clamp down, he didn't break the skin, he just grabbed my hand swiftly enough to say "No, man, that's not cool. Back off." I relented and backed off. He let go. Eventually I got him up and he went off to sulk for a bit due to the overall ignominy of it, but I gave him some treats before I left and we were friends again.
I've been watching him walk and he's not favoring the leg, so it wasn't an injury reaction. It was one of those defensive instincts that cats have (the belly is their most vulnerable spot and they'll protect it with their hind legs) but Abbie, at least, showed an admirable display of restraint, a rare feature in a cat who will beg for everything from avocado to bottled water. I guess we know each other well enough after fourteen years that he trusts me to respect a warning, and I trust he won't harm me intentionally.
He's a good fella.
And I've learned how to respond to him in ways that he understands. He's learned his name, and has matched his pitch roughly to the one I use when I talk to him. He also mimics the upward inflection we use when asking questions, though I'm not sure if he's connected that with demands or uses it cause he hears it a lot. He also understands "Okay" and "Go ahead", but probably because they're said in a friendly tone, not like "No" or "Get down", which he'll recognize of course but ignore.
Diane Duane, in her brilliant "Book of Night with Moon" series, holds forth that cat language is a lot more sophisticated than just meows. It also involves body language, posture, location relative to one another, and even eye contact or the lack thereof. And most cat owners will tell you that's certainly the case. (Everyone probably also has a story similar to this one here, so let's hear 'em, gang!)
Abbie's version of please, for example, is a gentle extending of the paw at whatever it is you're currently eating. It's almost a pathetic Oliver Twist gesture, but it also says "I could swipe that stuff outta your hand at any time, and don't you forget it." He also knows the best way to wake me up and get me to do something is swat at a plastic bag, because I will move heaven and earth to get him to Stop Doing That Dammit.
But he has an even more polite version of please: He just sits down next to me and gently headbutts my leg. That can mean either show me attention or take a look at the food dish when you can, you know, no big rush, I can wait for now. For now I said.
He stays gentle for the most part, because beyond the vacuum cleaner fear he's a very relaxed cat. Of course he is. He's an indoor cat who holds court in a purple papasan throne with a catnip plant growing directly above him. It dangles so tantalizingly close he could just reach up and nip a piece off if he wanted, the hedonistic little Caesar.
Today I was trying to shoo Abbie out of a room so I could head out for lunch. He was sacked out on a pillow and showed no interest in leaving. I started by petting him and doing the rump-patting thing, which usually gets a cat right up on their feet so you can gently send them on their way. Abbie, however, was having none of it.
He had a hind paw sticking out as he lay down, so I reached over to grab it and push it over, motivate him that way. Instead, as soon as I took his hind paw he quickly moved his head around and took my hand, very gently, in his mouth. It was not an aggressive move. He's not a regular biter. He did not clamp down, he didn't break the skin, he just grabbed my hand swiftly enough to say "No, man, that's not cool. Back off." I relented and backed off. He let go. Eventually I got him up and he went off to sulk for a bit due to the overall ignominy of it, but I gave him some treats before I left and we were friends again.
I've been watching him walk and he's not favoring the leg, so it wasn't an injury reaction. It was one of those defensive instincts that cats have (the belly is their most vulnerable spot and they'll protect it with their hind legs) but Abbie, at least, showed an admirable display of restraint, a rare feature in a cat who will beg for everything from avocado to bottled water. I guess we know each other well enough after fourteen years that he trusts me to respect a warning, and I trust he won't harm me intentionally.
He's a good fella.
(no subject)
Date: 2011-12-08 10:01 pm (UTC)Thank you! I made it for
(I was so glad to have both Boris Karloff and a Peter Lorre-esque character in BB1946!)
Arsenic and Old Lace is one of the movies of my childhood; I grew up on a crackly, taped-off-the-television, missing-the-first-five-minutes cassette that I watched nearly into oblivion. I'm sure it screwed me up in ways I haven't even been able to identify, but it also introduced me to Cary Grant, Raymond Massey, Peter Lorre, Edward Everett Horton, and Frank Capra, so I don't see how any of those can be a bad thing. Seeing it hat-tipped in the show was a delight.
Right: I also need to tell you that my brother's in-laws are pestering him about the Byfar Coffee Syrup I bought for him at this year's broadcast—apparently it vanished as only very delicious things do and he's been asking me (because everyone has been asking him) where it came from. Is it possible to get any more before next Halloween? At least one family in Swampscott would be in your debt.
When I played Teddy in my senior year of high school (Greatest. Production. Ever.)
Lucky. Bastard.
I was tasked with learning as much of the bugle as I could. It was tough working up the embouchure from nothing at all, but I managed to work up some good loud blats out of the thing. I reasoned that Teddy being Teddy wasn't the best bugle player either, but like T.R. he'd try his damnedest anyway.
I really don't use emoticons, and Livejournal doesn't have that little thumbs-up feature, so just imagine a lot of grinning.
(no subject)
Date: 2011-12-09 08:18 pm (UTC)I saw the movie after seeing the stage adaptation and then performing in it, so the watered down punchline "I'm the son of a sea cook!" didn't have quite the punch of the original for me, but it's just one of those Front Page-type incidents where the Hays Office just has to poke its snoot in. The movie is still absolutely wonderful, though, and the acting top notch.
I love the fact that the play had been written as a dark murder scenario, but so overdone that the transition to comedy was very easy.
Right: I also need to tell you that my brother's in-laws are pestering him about the Byfar Coffee Syrup I bought for him at this year's broadcast—apparently it vanished as only very delicious things do and he's been asking me (because everyone has been asking him) where it came from. Is it possible to get any more before next Halloween? At least one family in Swampscott would be in your debt.
Email me. I've got the connections. We can make this happen.
I had more to say about my high school production of A&OL, but parts of it suddenly bloomed into what should be a full-on post. That'll happen when I'm in that writy mood but don't want to do The Important Stuff. Hoorah!
(no subject)
Date: 2011-12-09 10:46 pm (UTC)Well, yes; and it would have been really aweome if Boris Karloff had gotten the time off to make the film. I still used to go around shouting, "I'm not a cab driver, I'm a coffee pot!"
Email me. I've got the connections. We can make this happen.
Done. Thank you!
That'll happen when I'm in that writy mood but don't want to do The Important Stuff. Hoorah!
I'll look forward to it!
(no subject)
Date: 2011-12-10 08:22 am (UTC)Done. Thank you!
Hmm, haven't seen anything appear yet in the inbox. Try, um, Romeo November Oscar Yankee Echo Sierra at gmail.
Geez, Romeo November makes for a horrible pen name.
(no subject)
Date: 2011-12-10 08:43 am (UTC)Re-tried. I sent the first one to your livejournal e-mail, which was the only address I had for you.
Geez, Romeo November makes for a horrible pen name.
It sounds like the attempted hero of a series of spy novels c. Our Man Flint.
. . . of course, I'm Sierra Tango. This is like a porn-name game. I think I lost.
(no subject)
Date: 2011-12-14 12:31 am (UTC)