My Cats and Their Selective Command of the English Language

Posted: October 28, 2012 by S. Trevor Swenson in Home, Life, Me & Mine
Tags: , , , , , ,

Click to watch Simon’s Cat

OK. It’s official. I am now one of those sad people boring others with tales of their cat(s) I don’t care. I think other sad people just may be able to relate. I have two cats; Cheech and Chong. Actually that’s not entirely accurate. They are my roommate Nikki’s cats. Come to think of it, that’s not accurate either. Let me start over. There are two cats living at the same address as my roommate and I. Their names are Cheech and Chong, and Nikki and I are their humans.

The roommate dynamic isn’t always simple, but I do my best to accommodate Nikki, by stealing her chocolate, promising to replace it and then…erm not. I also make a point of leaving the toilet seat up, so she can see if it needs to be cleaned or not. What can I say? I’m a giver.

I also act as butler, masseuse, head chef, dishwasher, maid, and hairstylist among other things for the brains of the operation; Ms. Cheech and Mr. Chong.

I find their selective command of the English language fascinating. For example, they understand some things fluently, such as:

“Are you hungry?”

“Want to eat?”

or

“Want some yums?”

Yet they give me a look of utter befuddled confusion or patronizing annoyance with other statements such as.

“No!”

“Be quiet, Cheech!”

“Shut up, Cheech!”

“In the name of everything holy, please, please, PLEASE, for God’s sake, SHUT THE FUCK UP CHEECH!”

“Chong, your build and density resembles that of a fluffy mini-cooper. Would it be possible for you to sleep next to me and not on top of me?”

“I already fed you. Yes I did. Yes I DID!”

“Yes Chong, you have a lovely puckered starfish, but I prefer to view it from a distance as opposed to up close and personal. Thanks, Buddy.”

And finally:

“Get down Cheech.”

She does not understand or acknowledge this unless and until I use the more formal form of the request, namely:

“Get down, Get down, Get DOWN, getdowngetdowngetdown GET DOOOOWN!!!!”

My agnostic soul finds itself wishing that after I die I am reincarnated as a house cat. It was fun selectively ignoring my moms as a teenager, and it would be fun to lead a life this way.

And?

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