Tuesday, April 27, 2010

Cat got her tongue

My daughter says Hi – but only to our pets. Whenever we come home, our two cats and dog stand ceremoniously at the door to greet us, which gets Little Miss really excited. She gleefully says Hi to the gang, sometimes to each animal, and not just her favorite kitty, if she's in really good spirits. It’s evident she knows the word, but when asked to greet a friend, a neighbor or any human being with it, she stares blankly at them.

No, she knows how to say it. Really. Say Hi...
- Blink. Blink. Stare. Blink.
Come on sweetie, say Hi… You can do it... Remember? Hi…   
- Blink. Blink. Stare. Blink. 

Thanks. Now I’m a liar. Coaxing her with a “just pretend Auntie Jane is a dog” probably wouldn’t go over well either, so I decided to let it go.

Yesterday I was awakened by the sweet sounds of toddler speak on the monitor. It was strange as it was an hour earlier than when she would normally wake up and while premature rising cramps my nocturnal style, I couldn’t help but enjoy the adorable chatter so I stayed in bed, smiling and listening. Ewryounf, wrjodufn foeuron woufnfno yioirnninl – that’s the closest approximation to what she sounded like. And then I heard this: HI erarnaon HI anroun bebendon HI… 

I bolted upright and looked around my bedroom. There's a cat missing! Sure enough, before I alerted the press (namely the guy sleeping soundly next to me, completely oblivious to the world), I heard the high-pitched MEOW MEOW MEOW from the monitor. Dammit! We had to go in to rescue the cat; she’s been locked in that room sans litterbox for over 12 hours, and I shuddered to think what we might find.

Thankfully, the cat darted out of the room to the “restroom” of her choice, and Little Miss' bedroom was as we had left it the night before. Only this time, with an active, alert toddler in our hands, and it’s not even 7 am. Purr-fect.

Good morning Little Miss – Hi!
- Blink. Blink. Stare. Blink.

 The culprit