Does your cat speak English?

On or about day #2 of Maddie's residence with us, I gave her a little toy mouse to play with. She began to prance and bat in a joyous and dainty way; but after a few seconds paused and searched my face earnestly. I said, in my most supportive, cuddly voice, "It's ok! You can play!", and she promptly resumed her little mouse dance. This little sequence happened about five time in a row, before Maddie was sufficiently reassured that playing was honestly, truly allowed. Each time, I encouraged her to keep playing, and each time, she did.

I drew from this the logical conclusion that Maddie knows English. I then began to wonder if my other two cats are also fluent.

Emily, I fear, comprehends broken English, at best. She frequently leaves when I tell her to come, and gives me blank looks when I encourage her to cuddle. Vespers, on the other hand, normally understands the call to cuddle, best given by cupping his face gently in my hands, gazing lovingly into his eyes, and saying, "Howsabout a little cuddle?". Of course, he might be responding to the body language and the tone of my voice, but good enough.

Miracle Maddie

Our household has a new feline member. Maddie Matins literally crossed my path on June 2nd, when all two pounds of her streaked out onto the road in front of the car ahead of me. The car swerved, but I watched her little left hind leg go under the tire. I came to a stop; she limped away to the bush-adorned island in the middle of the street.

Fast forward now, through me parking my car in the middle of the street, encountering a police officer who insists that I move my car, and my request that the police officer stay and watch for the kitten while I move my car. He agreed, I moved the car, and returned to search among the foliage.

About seven minutes later (which felt like forty while cars honked at me as I fruitlessly peered through the bushes for the little escape artist) I found her. I had grabbed my jacket from my trunk, to capture her safely like the good rabies-conscious citizen I am. I could see her, but there was no way for me to get hold of her through the bush branches with anything but my bare hands. After a millisecond’s hesitation, I went for it bare-handed. I cuddled her against my chest, and she did not resist. I consider it a cosmic moment: I chose to trust her, and she chose to trust me.

I checked her over and miraculously did not see any injury.

Fast forward again through driving her to work (I was on lunch break), getting her situated in a cardboard file box, and begging some chicken and milk for her from the restaurant downstairs. During this time, I called my husband to tell him that I was bringing a stray kitten home. Once resuscitated, he rose to the occasion.

We sneaked her past my two one year-old kitties (my children, the loves of my life) and settled Maddie in the room we use as a home office.

From the beginning, this new family member has been an absolute cuddle-bum. For the first couple days, she stayed under the bed like the traumatized baby cat she is. However, whenever I reached under to pull her out, she half-heartedly dragged her claws through the carpet in protest while PURRING ecstatically! This girl LOVES contact. She is a lap cat, a chest cat, a lay-by-your-side and purr cat.

We did eventually find that Maddie’s left hind leg was slightly swollen and bruised. One vet trip later, the x-rays had confirmed No Broken Bones. Amazing.

Maddie got her name the night I brought her home. I lay in bed, searching for a fit name. Inspired my by baby boy Vespers (Latin for “Evening Prayer”), I hit on “Matins” (Lt. “Morning Prayer”). It was hopeful, promising, optimistic. Thus she is “Maddie Matins”, the Morning Prayer I encountered on a Tuesday afternoon.