We, as a family, talk to the cats in Chez Garen. Not a lot, and not seriously, but it seems like the thing to do. Maybe we just have loud mewing cats, but it’s awkward after a point to not talk to them, and they out number us and can exact retribution on our sleep schedules, so we’re just playing it safe.
Most of my conversations with them are along the lines of “you’re pretty fuzzy there, kip/merlin/montana/nash,” but other members of the household who shall remain nameless have been known to have much longer and more involved conversations with the family pets.
Right. Earlier today, I heard from my perch in my office, someone say:
“Come to the light, Kip!”
Presumably said person was trying to get the cat to follow them out of the room, or come up from the basement.
Not being able to help myself, I said (in a cartoonish voice meant to imitate the cat/lolcats,) “Nooo George Fox, I likes the dark.”
Quaker puns are highly under appreciated in today’s world.
I think we have our work cut out for us.