Cheyenne is not a talking cat. Her meows are limited to "My food bowl is empty. HOW could you DO that to me?", or "Where have you BEEN? I wanted you HERE!" Over time she has taught me her second language. Gentler, more loving and on a much deeper level than demanding her due from me. She speaks with her tail.
If I have prodded her off her throne (MY recliner) in the middle of one of her many naps in the glow of the sun, she reluctantly jumps to the floor, puts that tail straight UP, stops at the doorway to glare at me over her shoulder and with great impertinence sashays out of the room giving me the finger -- or, ah, the tail.
When I massage her with the lint roller (she LOVES it) to remove her hair before it gets on my furniture and linens, she whups me with her tail to tell me "that's enough already -- I need some warmth for the coming cold weather."
The rapid twitch she signals as she's anticipating just how much power and leverage it will take to get from the floor to her favorite sleeping spot the terry towel draped between the sheets and up against the pillow on my bed, you can almost hear the concentration and communication between head and tail. "OK now if I want my front paws to reach the mattress and my back paws to support my landing, I should do three practice lift offs of my rump and then lunge like I'm still 3 years old instead of 13. And in order to miss that rumpled blanket I'll aim just a little to the left of yesterday's jump. All systems ready? Swish, swish lift off, Here I goooooooo!"
My favorite secret language though is when she circles my limp body as I prepare to dream (and perchance to sleep too) dusting me with the full length of her tail as if tucking the blankets in just so. When she is comfortable that I am settled for the night she selects her position of choice, butt near my shoulder, head facing away toward any approaching danger from outside our sacred circle and talks to my nose, cheek and chin with the gentlest brush stroke whispers and emphatic taps from the tip of her tail. Her very own prayer time and lullaby. "Thank you for Bonney and the care she gave me today. Help her rest peacefully and awake rejuvenated. Let her know I am guarding her through the night even if I jump down and go catting around the house while she dreams. And thank you for giving me the unique voice box to purr her to sleep with her favorite comfort sounds. I give it gladly."
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