Feline Mooings
I believe I may have mentioned that Holly, my not-quite-ten-month-old black tortoiseshell kitten, often forgets to open her mouth when she meows. The result is an inarticulate sort of mooing noise that nevertheless can express quite a range of emotions. Right now, for instance, it's expressing frustration.
The roots of her current frustration can be traced to a few days ago, I believe, when a lot of bangs and thuds caused me to wonder what the hell she was doing in the study. I walked in, to find her... doing absolutely nothing, actually, except sitting in the middle of the floor with a rather concentrated expression on her face.
Me: "Holly? What the heck are you up to?"
Holly: "Mmmmrph!"
And she trotted over to me and triumphantly spat a rather damp but otherwise unharmed fly at my feet. Holly was, as she proceeded to inform me, a Great Hunter who had discovered the Best Cat Toy Ever.
Holly: "Mmmph! Moo! Mrrr. Mmmfrmmm! Moo!"
At this point the fly tried to make a break for it, Holly chased it to the window and landed among the blinds with a nerve-shattering crash, and I left her alone to get on with things.
(The fly was gone about half an hour later. Depending on your attitude towards large, slow, bumbling flies, you may prefer to imagine that Holly finally killed and ate it, or that it escaped and is now living happily in a garbage bin with a wife and a growing family. Your choice.)
Well, Holly already knew that daddy-long-legs spiders were a tasty and amusingly wriggly source of extra protein, but apparently the fly incident convinced her that bugs were all the Best Cat Toys Ever. Since that day, the appearance of anything possessing more legs than she does has been greeted with loud and inarticulate moos of delight (and, shortly thereafter, by a lot of noise as she chases whatever-it-is over and under the scenery before - eventually - eating it).
Today, there was a spider in the hall. This was either a much more intelligent daddy-long-legs than usual, or simply one that was terrified into actually taking the correct action, because instead of running (and making itself a far more attractive target in the process) this one froze after about the third paw-swat.
Turns out Holly can't see small leggy objects that kind of blend into the carpet if they aren't moving. There was a startled little moo as her prey vanished, and then she just sort of froze, staring at the carpet and occasionally mooing under her breath in the hopes that the current Best Cat Toy Ever would reappear. Da Handsome Hubby foiled her plans by scooping her up and redepositing her in my study with me, since he wanted to go to bed and the presence of a mooing kitten in the hallway is not conducive to restful sleep. (Especially as a mooing kitten in the hallway eventually becomes a mooing kitten wandering off into the lounge room, which is Titti Territory and ends in a yowling catfight.) This was... this was just wrong. Daddy couldn't have meant to lock her in a room with me before she found and ate the Best Cat Toy At The Moment! It was her Best Cat Toy! Obviously I needed to let her out right now!
Insert five minutes of Holly mooing excitedly at the door, occasionally throwing herself at it for percussive accompaniment. You can get a good idea of what it sounded like by standing next to a hollow-cored door, going "Mmmmmmooo!" through your nose with your mouth closed, while beating the door with a fairly hefty stuffed animal. (For extra credit, see how long you can keep this up before your housemates / spouse / parents / children / neighbours come to see what the hell is going on. Bonus points if they bring a straitjacket.) Da Handsome Hubby lasted for, yes, five minutes before opening the door and letting her out because he felt sorry for her.
He's now in our bedroom with the door shut; presumably, because she's no longer playing Kitten's Greatest Drum Solo Hits on the door, he can't hear her. I, on the other hand, can. Apparently the spider was fairly intelligent indeed, as it took the opportunity presented by those five minutes to make a dash for safety and is now nowhere to be found. And apparently the kitten isn't quite as intelligent as the spider (as you might expect, given that - as I've pointed out several times during the course of this post - she forgets to open her mouth when she meows and is possibly suffering from lack of oxygen to the brain as a result), because she's currently mooing distractedly, searching the same five square inches of carpet over and over again for the Best Cat Toy Ever, complaining that damnit she put it down right here just a minute ago and it can't have walked off by itself, really, can it Mummy?
Holly: "Nnnmmmmooooo!"
The roots of her current frustration can be traced to a few days ago, I believe, when a lot of bangs and thuds caused me to wonder what the hell she was doing in the study. I walked in, to find her... doing absolutely nothing, actually, except sitting in the middle of the floor with a rather concentrated expression on her face.
Me: "Holly? What the heck are you up to?"
Holly: "Mmmmrph!"
And she trotted over to me and triumphantly spat a rather damp but otherwise unharmed fly at my feet. Holly was, as she proceeded to inform me, a Great Hunter who had discovered the Best Cat Toy Ever.
Holly: "Mmmph! Moo! Mrrr. Mmmfrmmm! Moo!"
At this point the fly tried to make a break for it, Holly chased it to the window and landed among the blinds with a nerve-shattering crash, and I left her alone to get on with things.
(The fly was gone about half an hour later. Depending on your attitude towards large, slow, bumbling flies, you may prefer to imagine that Holly finally killed and ate it, or that it escaped and is now living happily in a garbage bin with a wife and a growing family. Your choice.)
Well, Holly already knew that daddy-long-legs spiders were a tasty and amusingly wriggly source of extra protein, but apparently the fly incident convinced her that bugs were all the Best Cat Toys Ever. Since that day, the appearance of anything possessing more legs than she does has been greeted with loud and inarticulate moos of delight (and, shortly thereafter, by a lot of noise as she chases whatever-it-is over and under the scenery before - eventually - eating it).
Today, there was a spider in the hall. This was either a much more intelligent daddy-long-legs than usual, or simply one that was terrified into actually taking the correct action, because instead of running (and making itself a far more attractive target in the process) this one froze after about the third paw-swat.
Turns out Holly can't see small leggy objects that kind of blend into the carpet if they aren't moving. There was a startled little moo as her prey vanished, and then she just sort of froze, staring at the carpet and occasionally mooing under her breath in the hopes that the current Best Cat Toy Ever would reappear. Da Handsome Hubby foiled her plans by scooping her up and redepositing her in my study with me, since he wanted to go to bed and the presence of a mooing kitten in the hallway is not conducive to restful sleep. (Especially as a mooing kitten in the hallway eventually becomes a mooing kitten wandering off into the lounge room, which is Titti Territory and ends in a yowling catfight.) This was... this was just wrong. Daddy couldn't have meant to lock her in a room with me before she found and ate the Best Cat Toy At The Moment! It was her Best Cat Toy! Obviously I needed to let her out right now!
Insert five minutes of Holly mooing excitedly at the door, occasionally throwing herself at it for percussive accompaniment. You can get a good idea of what it sounded like by standing next to a hollow-cored door, going "Mmmmmmooo!" through your nose with your mouth closed, while beating the door with a fairly hefty stuffed animal. (For extra credit, see how long you can keep this up before your housemates / spouse / parents / children / neighbours come to see what the hell is going on. Bonus points if they bring a straitjacket.) Da Handsome Hubby lasted for, yes, five minutes before opening the door and letting her out because he felt sorry for her.
He's now in our bedroom with the door shut; presumably, because she's no longer playing Kitten's Greatest Drum Solo Hits on the door, he can't hear her. I, on the other hand, can. Apparently the spider was fairly intelligent indeed, as it took the opportunity presented by those five minutes to make a dash for safety and is now nowhere to be found. And apparently the kitten isn't quite as intelligent as the spider (as you might expect, given that - as I've pointed out several times during the course of this post - she forgets to open her mouth when she meows and is possibly suffering from lack of oxygen to the brain as a result), because she's currently mooing distractedly, searching the same five square inches of carpet over and over again for the Best Cat Toy Ever, complaining that damnit she put it down right here just a minute ago and it can't have walked off by itself, really, can it Mummy?
Holly: "Nnnmmmmooooo!"