Years ago, when I adopted Chessie the breeder cautioned me that female Siamese are talkers. At the time I already had Chessie's half-brother, Max, who wasn't too much of a Chatty Cathy and I thought surely it won't be too bad. Well, the breeder, of course, was right. She was always more talkative than Max, but not to the point that it drove me crazy.
It will be two years in February that Max developed kidney disease and had to be put down. From the get-go I don't think Chessie missed him much. She was too excited at the prospect of now being queen of the house. Of course, she was wrong. Most of the time. But the one thing I've noticed is that without Max here, her verbal skills have become finely tuned. I've learned to put up with it during the day. But the night is another story.
Chessie has recently developed a very bad habit of deciding it's time for me to wake up at four a.m. or thereabouts. Who needs a rooster with her around? She meows. I yell at her. She meows again. I yell more. And on it goes. Then I finally drift back to sleep and ten minutes later my radio goes on. Time to write, and I've missed an hour's sleep. I drag out of bed. Picture the guy on the old commercial saying "Time to make the donuts," only I'm saying "Time to make the story."
Today most of my morning was taken up with my volunteer job teaching reading and writing English to non-English speakers. I came home at noon full of intentions to write, if only I could see the computer screen through my drooping eyelids. I'd type a few words and yawn. I'd make a few corrections and yawn again. Finally, I gave up and laid down for a snooze. I no sooner did I do that and what did I hear?
I've had Chessie for over twelve years. I don't know if getting another cat at this point is the answer. Would she be so territorial that I'd never have any peace? Maybe I just need to pray a lot.
God silenced Zechariah. Do you think He might silence a cat?