My days are starting to follow a pattern. Get up. Feed the cats. Make coffee. Write Blog. Go to work. Write lover in jail. Wait for daily 10 minute phone call. Read. Go to bed with cats.
The phone call is the lifeline. We are learning to talk very fast. The languorous moments where we would sigh and reflect and connect without words have been unceremoniously scrapped and I miss them. Instead, I have a notepad with everything I need to say and ask. We have agreed not to talk about anything we have written each other so as to avoid redundancy. Besides, how much fun would it be to get a letter only to find everything old news?
Today, I am asking him about a piece of music he had written years ago that I had just heard for the 1st time when my female kitty started meowing annoyingly loudly as she paced around my feet. He said immediately, "put her on." Reluctantly, I hold the phone up to her perky ear. She listens intently as he meows and purrs back at her. This would seem bizarre except she is a highly intelligent and very talkative part Asian leopard. He has an equally amazing gift that allows him to hear and repeat sounds that I can barely discern. It is probably why he has no accent when he speaks in English which is not his mother tongue. It is probably why he can speak many languages while I stumble with my mother tongue. My beautiful marble and spotted kitty ends her plaintive vocalizations and begins to settle down and purr.
My mother in her infinite wisdom laments, "don't you wish they could talk (the cats)?" I look at her and say, "what do you think that was?" She shrugs and says, "but I mean in English." I respond, " what part didn't you get...the cat said, I am pissed off at you, where the hell have you been? Have you forgotten me? " It is CATLISH. He speaks it. I understand it. The cat gets it too.
I take the phone back from the now calm cat and hear the beep signaling the end of the call.
Meow means I love you.
No comments:
Post a Comment