Sometimes I wish Pogo could talk. Oh, he gives talking his best, just not in English. Fortunately, I know a few words in cat and he knows several words in English. So we manage to communicate.
Pogo knows the word down. His repertoire also includes no, back, stop and hush.
In cat, I know hurry, momma, hungry, starving and up (what he utters in midair on his way to my lap).
Pogo also uses body language and his paws to communicate. When he thinks "enough sleep already," he pokes me on the arm with claws retracted. When he knows for sure I am awake but faking sleep, he pulls the claws. Not hard, he draws no blood, but he warns that will follow soon.
If the dish on the footlocker needs water, he sits patiently beside the dish and stares at me until I notice him. He might poke his paw into the dish and then look at me again. "Get the message??? Huh? Huh?"
Since Satchmo is younger and more the quiet, silent type, you really have to pay attention to get his message. Except when I am lying down with my CPAP on and he shakes the hose. "Hey, look down, I'm here. Let me walk under your outstretched hand." He knows more English than I do his dialect.
The boys do have similar words for bird, bug and children. Pogo tells me when Connie pulls up out front or when my next door neighbor walks by.
Sometimes they are a pain in the neck, most most of the time they are a joy.
Later, Dude.
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