Chester Fat Boy is my gray brindle cat who keeps me company when I write. He talks to me and I talk back to him. We carry on conversations even though he does not know People Talk and I'm not at all fluent in Cat Talk.
This past week he came into my office and told me something was wrong. I asked him if he wanted to sit in his window and watch the school traffic and he said something in Cat Talk that let me know that was not what he wanted at all.
"Do you want food?" I asked.
You do not ask a fat boy if he is hungry. Of course he wanted food and he was so happy that I opened up a can of his favorite chicken and tuna mixture with gravy. He settled down to eat and then came back to the office to talk some more.
"Do you want me to clean off the extra chair?"
He went back to the utility room and talked me into following him. His saucer was clean but maybe he was still hungry so I asked him again if he needed another half a can. He rubbed around my legs and I swear his answer was yes. So I gave him a little more and went back to the book I've been trying to get done by deadline time. In minutes he was beside my chair talking to me some more.
At this point, I told him he'd had plenty of food and he could take his normal morning nap and be a good muse. He finally crawled up on "his" chair and went to sleep. But the moment Mr. B came home from running errands, he ran into the utility room and did some more talking.
"Hey, Carolyn, there is a mouse in the house. Fat Boy says it is behind the washing machine," Mr. B yelled.
Now dear hearts, I can kill a spider. I'm not afraid of a snake and a hungry grizzly bear with an ingrown toe nail who'd just woke up and is starving does not scare me like a mouse. But sure enough there was a hole in the big bag of cat food not far from the washing machine which testified that there was a mouse in the house.
We caught the critter and his running buddy both and Fat Boy was content to sleep on his chair the next day. I bought him treats and told him that he was a good boy. And then I asked him why he'd taught Mr. B to understand Cat Talk when he never let me in on the secret.
He didn't answer. I think it's a conspiracy among the males who live in this house!