Big CrocoRy Tears

“At last!” Chirps my beloved cat. “A blog post about MEEEEE!”

Except it’s not about how adorable he is, how handsome, how sweet, how he knows when we’re upset and will snuggle in close (he’s gotten quite good at that). No.

It’s about how he. Never. Shuts. Up.

I’ve had other Siamese-type cats in the past, and let me tell you, this one has got them all beat when it comes to the chat factor. 

Let’s be accurate, though. Ry is a Lynx-point longhair…something. Snowshoe? Nope, no white feet. Siamese? I think long-haired and Siamese are mutually exclusive terms. Adorable kitty? Yeah, we can go with that. 

He has big blue eyes, a cute turned up nose, and even at 7 years old he still has a kitten vibe. I look at his face sometimes and can still see him as a youngster. That doesn’t always happen as kitties age.

He is extremely sincere. You know how some cats (and cat non-aficionados at this point are saying “ALL cats) have an attitude? Not Ry. The only thing he might have a little bit of ‘tude about is meeting strangers. Not his thing. People other than HIS two people come in the house, this boy becomes part of the woodwork. I don’t know where he goes, but he‘s a master at hiding until he deems it safe to come out. (We had some friends over last week, and he actually materialized to stare at them. We told them how special they must be, for him to deign to show himself.)

So back to Mr Yakky-Cat. He has a lot to say. All the time. He comments on the weather. On the fact that when we let him out the front door early in the day and forget to let him back in after 15.5 minutes his ears get cold (like this morning. I really had to grovel about that one.)

It’s cold out there, and my ears are freezing.

About the evening treats. If he doesn’t murp and whine and purrup he is convinced that we will forget to give the cats their treats before bed. He has appointed himself official remind-the-humans-about-the-treats cat.

Treats right here in the bowl, please.

He has sadness down to an art. Right now we’re rebuilding the back catio, so the cats have been banned from the back deck for months. He is the one who lets us know that this is sooooo unacceptable, and he is soooooo sad about it. Not angry, or demanding. Sad. He shows us this pathetic, sad face and his voice sounds like huge crocodile tears. 

Mommee has forgotten to mention how much I love my dog brother, Niko.

He’s hilarious.

He knows who he is, and is unafraid to tell us all about it. He has his place in the family (keeper of the cat stories, which he retells verbally all the time), and he relishes his role. Not for him, the Princess (Torbie), the Sage (Lynkx), the Scardy Cat (Ellie) or the Fool (Jackson).

He is Ry, the Talker. Teller of all that needs telling. Hear him roar. Or murp.