I recently read that black cats are the most talkative of all felines. I can attest to this. Of all our three, Dakotah is by far the most yakky. And not just the same "meow" over and over. Nope. She has a whole vocabulary; from the softest "mew" to a full blown cat-conversation.
There are times when she just won't shut up.
And others when I wished she WOULD speak up.
For you see, as soon as Dakotah hears me offer to take the dog outside, she makes a feline-beeline for the back door, stretches up as far as she can and lets out a squeaky meow "pleeeze" to join us. Not that she wants to go out into the yard. Oh no. She just loves to wait with me inside the garage while the dog goes out. During the summer I don't mind her company, but now that it has turned colder, I bar her way with my foot and a stern "No, Dakotah, it's too cold. You stay inside!"
Most times she sits obediently and waits. But sometimes the little scamp ignores me and darts out over my foot anyway. It's easy for the little black flash to get by me - especially in the dark.
So that particular morning I let the dog out twice and it was after that second time panic suddenly set in. Dakotah was nowhere to be found. Here I was, all ready to leave for work, the car was warming up and I had visions of Dakotah still in the freezing garage.
Did she get past me again?
Maybe she got outside... I check the garage.
I start the hunt indoors. There was Sheba, in her usual spot... near the front door waiting for me to leave and wondering why I wasn't.
There was Tawnee in her usual spot... stealing food from the other two cat's bowls.
There was Casey, following me around as I called out "Dakotah! Dakotah!" wondering I am sure, what the heck the trouble was.
I knew I couldn't leave for work until I was certain she was safe inside. I would worry all day. So I continued my search, gradually raising my voice from a sweetly toned "Dakotah!" to a yell resembling a worried parent "DAKOTAH!!!!!" as I searched upstairs and downstairs and back in the garage again.
Finally, what seemed like forever (okay, 10 minutes later), a black furry head pops out from around the kitchen corner and stares up at me.
I swear if she could talk, she would have said "WHAT????"
Relieved that I didn't in fact, lock her out in the cold, I gave her a hug to assure her she wasn't in trouble and hurried out the door for work.
Sure. She can yak it up all day, but the ONE TIME I needed her to say something...
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