At least, not yet. Which is not to say it won’t happen eventually, but I’d prefer that eventuality to be a long time in the future.
Until that (hopefully) far off day, there is Granny Weatherwax-style headology, because every day I can remind myself that I aten’t ded is a good day. After all, things can always improve (and it’s a very, very bad idea to tell yourself that they can’t get any worse, because something out there takes comments like “it can’t get worse” and goes out of its way to prove you wrong). Besides, there are few things more soothing than a purring cat insisting that you need to be loved. Right now.
Even Her Royal Highness Princess Buttercup, she of the voice that bends steel, is remarkably soothing when she’s snuggled up on my lap or in the bed and purring away. It’s really only when she’s telling us of the horrible indignities in her life (the kibble bowl is empty! Whatever is a spoiled kitteh to do?) that the full steel-bending experience cuts in. She is Siamese, after all. She does not do dulcet.
In contrast, the boys chirp. Midnight has a deeper voice than Westley, and doesn’t talk as much. He doesn’t need to – if someone needs to get a human’s attention, Buttercup is the designated Speaker to Humans. Westley just likes to let me know he’s around (and maybe beg for some extra attention because no kitteh ever had too much attention). Midnight prefers to park himself somewhere obvious and give the poor pitiful me look when he wants attention. It’s truly amazing how pathetic a determined basement kitteh can make himself look – despite him being the biggest and most solidly built of the three.
Westley prefers the derpy look. We keep telling him his tongue is going to dry up and fall off, but I don’t think he believes us. Not the way he keeps sleeping with his tongue out giving us the full derp look.
On second thoughts, when I do end up dead, can I come back as a pampered house cat? Sleeping 20 hours out of 24, with my biggest worries being convincing the humans to pet me or give me extra food… sounds positively delightful.
(And yes, Westley tends to get photographed more because he likes to be photogenic on my desk)
Athena T. Cat has gone from “Maine Coon quiet” to “rusty bandsaw” in the past year. She’d deaf in one ear and can’t hear out the other, so she stands in corners to amplify her (already) loud, non-dulcet tones. She’s also either 17 or 18, so she has an excuse.
Oh, dear. The amplification trick is an… interesting one.
At 17/18 Athena T. Cat is a venerable old lady and thus entitled to do whatever she wants whenever she wants. May she remain in mostly good health for a good long while yet.
Zyloram “Zy-Zy” our rescue feral Res kitten, who was about 4 weeks old when we captured him running along a street gutter, didn’t learn how to purr at all until he was 5-6 months old, and then it sounded broken. Now he still doesn’t purr regularly (it’s considered quite a grace when he chooses to purr for a human, and that is usually only in the bedroom. He will purr for our other male cat when being groomed, which is when we hear his purr the most) but when he does, it is either silent, you can feel the purr, but not hear it, or it sounds like a diesel truck warming up and vibrates his whole body. He has all the look and traits and sounds of a Maine Coon or a Norwegian Forest cat but not the size. So we think there is some of that back in his history. Everyone else’s purrs and sounds are fairly normal for their “types”. Walmart Siamese, mixed breed black short-hair, and 1/2 blue Russian black cat.
At 4 weeks, there were a lot of things he still had to learn about Catting – although it sounds like your other kittehs were able to teach him what he needed to know.
The silent purr is something interesting, isn’t it? Our much-missed Shani was completely silent, including the purr. We had to touch her throat to be sure she was purring – she had malformed vocal cords, which apparently also influence the volume of the purr. When she was sufficiently outraged she could squawk, and as she got past elderly to ancient (she was 21 when we lost her to cancer) she occasionally had a bit more voice in her meows.
It does sound like your Zy-Zy has an interesting ancestry – it can be interesting to figure out the traits sometimes. The Siamese do have that tendency to be talkative and loud – every time we’ve had a Siamese with other cats, the Siamese became the designated “talker”.
My brain keeps giving Westley a voice-over of “Nyan!” for that tongue.
He does give that impression, doesn’t he? All he really needs to make it perfect is crossed eyes (and having had a cross-eyed Siamese as a kid, not something I’d wish on a kitteh).
Our Furball and Shadow purr a lot, and have since they were tiny balls of fur that fit in a palm, but they meow far more sparingly. Shadow meows a little when she wants to be let in to a room, or once in a while if we don’t get up early and they ran out of food overnight. I can go a couple days without hearing a meow from Furball. I seldom go a day without them hissing at each other. Ah, siblings.
Oh, yes. Westley and Midnight do that as well. They often play-fight – and sometimes it’s rather questionable how much is play and how much is fight.