The cat has grown very vocal in his old age.
I’m thinking of renaming him Bagpipe.
Photo: Cath Phillips
Filed under the cat
Tagged as the cat
Blog appearances weren’t in the contract, you bastard.
Back to the downstairs parlour, or I’ll turn you over to the Theory Cadre.
Go with the German name: Dudelsack.
The cat may have been called Iggy, & may in the future be called Bagpipe, or even Dudelsack. But his true name–like all of our names–is held in trust by the Discourse Architectonics Working Party of the Theory Cadre, & thus known only to them.
That last is potentially heartening news as I’ve never much cared for “Andy”.
The new dominant Tomcat round our way keeps our poor bunch of cats terrified with his truly extraordinary vocal contortions: Infant-like mewls and whines that modulate themselves into strangulated bellows and apparent attempts at speech. It’s like the cat-sounds that must have had those irate comic book characters slinging old boots out of upstairs windows in dimly remembered “Beano” strips. Or maybe those wah-sax “Chunga” solos we were on about a few weeks back.
Actually, maybe it’s not just my cats who are scared of him…..
That cat looks strangely sentient. And it has paws like the Grinch. Wow. What breed is it?
The cat’s pedigree claims that it is a Burmilla. But the modern Burmilla is the result of a lot of breeding, & I think the cat is actually a simple F1 hybrid–cinchilla female to Burmese male. It’s therefore too thuggy for breed standard & its feet are about 3 times too large. Its father was vocal & dangerously sentient-looking too.
Vocal in old age? So too the cat who puts up with us (Jake, 18 year old grey and white moggy). He’s also become stone deaf which I think must add to the vocalising. There’s a querelous ‘why can’t I hear this?’ note to his repeated, rhythmic yowls directed at no-one in particular in the stairwell.
maybe its not just the cat who likes to talk…? Perhaps in his wisdom he is just keeping pace with the members of the so-called Theory Cadre.
Forget what he sounds like look at his huge furry full-moon boat-race and too large to be real eyes!
And is that an Ikea storage tin I see sprouting out of his left ear?
Hi Simon, nice to hear from you.
Iggy’s only selectively deaf–can hear a can of tuna being opened–indeed can hear a can of tuna simply being picked up & moved about–from anywhere in the house or garden.
But that yowling business on the stairs, it’s weird, isn’t it ? Iggy waits until we’re downstairs, then goes up & sits at the top & yowls–Quick! A dead child! Or perhaps it is me that is dying! Up here! Dead thing! So important! Oh God will no one ever listen! Death!–until we have no choice but to fling a cushion at him.
Hi Mia, well he certainly holds his own in conversation.
Duke: fat is the word I use for his face. He is fat.
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