Last week's katz Tales column in The Star Weekend was devoted to how dumb I am when it comes to communicating with Scoop and Au. They are both very patient with me, and always take the time to praise me when I manage to get it right: opening a new bag of biscuits at 4AM, leaving my desk an hour before deadline to get Au a fresh glass of water, or whatever else they require. In addition, I wrote I'm convinced both cats seem to have the gift of telepathy.
Obviously this struck a chord because my kitties were sent this email:
Dear Scoop and Au,
My name is Wa Wa. My daddy calls me Wa Wa Pussyboy, or just Wa Wa or just Pussyboy. When he is angry with me, my name becomes merely Wa!
I think many humans are very stupid. Just because they cannot speak or understand our language, they think we do not have a language to communicate with them. I talk with my daddy all the time and he understands me. Other times, I communicate with him in many other ways.
I remember there was this time when he stuck a piece of sticky tape around my arm and I could not get it off myself (he is very naughty sometimes!), I merely had to stretch my arm with the sticky tape stuck on, towards him and he dutifully took the sticky tape off my arm. Just a secret between you and me, frankly I have him wrapped around my fingertips or should I say, my claw tips. I get to boss him around almost all the time and he seems to enjoy that. Even though I am very bossy with him, I do it out of my sincerest love for him.
I hate it most when he goes off to work in the morning and leaves me all by myself for the whole day. I always try to stop him from leaving. How? Easy. I follow him around and try to stop him from getting to the door. I grip his legs to stop him from walking. He understands my intention very well but he always manages to get to work alright anyway.
When I want to play with him, I only need to bring my toy and leave it in front of him and he would dutifully pick the toy up to play with me. We play many games, including (1) fetch (he throws my toy away and I would pick it up and bring it back to him), (2) wrestling (he tries to cup my head), (3) chase (he would chase me all over the apartment until I surrender) and (4) hide and seek (he pretends not to have seen me and walk away while calling out my name and when I follow after him in a hunting posture, he would turn around to chase me).
Whenever I want to go under his blanket, I only need to lift part of his blanket up with my chin and he would let me go under his blanket with no question asked.
So, who says we do not know how to communicate. Because my communication with my daddy is so good that I do not even need to use my even more powerful communication skill, my psychic ability.
Say thank you to your mummy for sharing her story with you, with us.
Wa Wa Pussyboy.
What do you think? Do cats speak? Are they telepathic?