If animals could speak our language, what would they say? Now we know.
Our cats found a way to communicate – using magnetic poetry. And with the mastering of this poetic persuasion came a surprising request for an item believed to spark further communication.
Rest assured, fostering feline creativity is not my desire. These cats already outsmart me on a daily basis. I need no more of that. Besides, this request is just plain unhealthy…
What’s on your cat’s mind?
Wow your kitties certainly do wax poetic. I would have guessed they had something different on their minds however. Fish perhaps?
You’ll have to consult with them directly. I only know what they said.
Then again don’t. Next, they’ll want booze to accompany their cigarettes and we’ll be living with the darkness of two Edgar Allen Poes.
Very poetic! 🙂
Hysterical! What an achievement – ready for the Poe Parties?
That’s awesome!!!
Thanks, Jen! We would often hear the tink of words hitting the floor as the cats slyly played on the counters in the dark. This day, I actually caught those bad counter cats in the act.
LOL One of my guys has an obsession with the little doorstops that are on the wall (the ones that going Fwoing! when you smack ’em. Kosmo will smack at them until they loosen then he’ll steal it and bring it to me as a gift. Thank goodness he’s not an outdoor cat otherwise I’d be getting more than just a doorstop!
That’s a total hoot! Hey, even I find those doorstops fascinating. Hehehe. Better than a little dead beastie any day.
Totally! 🙂 Kosmo brings me all sorts of stuff: doorstops, socks, catnip pillows. Buddah is more adventurous and will physically raid the laundry basket so we’ll come home to find my bra or shirt in the middle of the floor. The noise they make when they are bringing me something is awful – sounds they they’re in pain! Freaked me out the first time I ever heard it. Now I know what they’re up to so I always go look to see what my “present” is and to say thank you.
Our guys get quiet. Too quiet. When we came home from vacation, they never came to greet us. The dead mouse in the basement was far too fascinating.
They’re like children: quiet is good. Too quiet is dangerous!