Kitty had the most mellifluous voice I’ve heard in a cat. It complemented his loving, gentle nature and drop dead good looks. Shanthala and I used to say that he was a nightingale. He was a very vocal cat with an astonishing range of vocalizations. I had no idea that cats had such a range of vocal sounds and so many of them sounded very much like responses to questions that I asked him.
Of his sounds, the first thing that I heard on waking up in the morning were his purrs and his quick, soft meows. He’d wait for the first signs of my waking up. If I as much as fluttered my eyes, he’d immediately utter his quick, soft meow, more like a “Good, you’re awake, I’m hungry”. If I didn’t wake by a certain time, he’d start patting my face with his paws, uttering soft meows. After I woke up and went to feed him, he’d utter another quick meow, sounding more like a “Yummy”, his purring would increase in amplitude and he’d crouch down to feed.
His quick meows were also used as gentle reminders such as when he was waiting by the door, waiting for one of us to open it for him or to announce that he was back and needed to be let in. If we asked him if he was hungry as we walked up to his eating place, his response sounded close enough to a “yeah!”. He also had a grunt or meow that sounded like a “no”. Some days, he’d be sitting by the front door, surveying the world as it went by. I’d open the door and ask him if he wanted to come in. He’d say “Uh!”, a short sound that sounded very much like a “not yet”. If we were going out somewhere, I’d say that he had to come in, in a slightly more pleading voice and he’d get up, meow a complaint and walk in.
It is speculated that many of the vocalizations of a cat are reserved for communicating with their human slaves. A Cornell study found that cats utter meows in a way that elicits the response they want from their human companion. In other words, cats train their owners and not the other way around and I’m living proof of that. However not all cats are as vocal, with the Siamese cats as renowed for their chatter as the Persians are for their silence.
Kitty could also control the amplitude of his meows based on the amplitude of my voice. We’d be in bed, he sleeping in the crook of my arm as I fondled him or cuddled with him. He’d be purring loudly. If Shanthala was asleep already, I’d whisper “Kitty, do you know I love you ?” or “You know you’re a real sweetheart Kitty, don’t you ?”. He’d whisper back a meow, as softly as I had asked the question, a meow that sounded like “Of course!”, his eyes just half-open. Sometimes, he’d be asleep and I’d wake in the middle of the night and look at him for a while. He’d wake up too with me and go back to sleep immediately once he realized that it was not time to be fed yet. I’d whisper sometimes, “Kitty, are you asleep ?” and he’d give me a silent meow.
The other sound that he made frequently was a melancholic “Aaauuu” that increased in intensity and pitch over time. This was the sound reserved for when he was agitated by the presence of another cat right outside, in his territory, and he was inside and couldn’t do anything about it. I realized this much later. The first time he made that sound, I thought that something was wrong and rushed to see if he was OK. When I did that a few times, he realized that he could get my attention quickly with that sound. One evening, we were in the kitchen and he was perched by the living room bay window. He made that sound and as I rushed out, I saw his head peeking out from behind the drapes looking at the kitchen door with intensely curious eyes, as if he was testing to see if I’d come immediately. When he saw me come, he tried ducking back behind the drapes, but he was a little slow. He meowed in irritation and jumped out and walked away.
His purr was of course our favorite sound. He purred so loudly that Shanthala would say “Kitty, we need to fit you with a silencer”. He’d only purr louder. When we were in bed at night and he was ready to sleep, his purring would stop for an instant and we’d hear a deep sigh and all would be silent. He was off chasing mice in dreamland. Many times, he’d purr, meow and eat at the same time, producing a unique sound that my brain now tries hard to not forget. Many times, he’d also softly snore, a sound so pleasant and human like, that I felt overwhelmed with love for him.
He’d also meow in irritation or frustration when he didn’t get what he wanted. Shanthala’s mom who isn’t so crazy about animals at home, was even less crazy about a cat. One night, when she was visiting us, I was working late in the night and Kitty was perched in my lap, half asleep. She was sitting nearby and could see what was going on. As the clock advanced to midnight and I showed no signs of stirring, Kitty woke up and meowed, an indication that it was time to go sleep. I said, “Soon, Kitty, soon”. A few minutes later, he meowed again with a slightly more irritated tone. I ignored him and continued working. I ignored a few more of the irritated meows. He then jumped on my keyboard, uttered a really loud meow and slapped my hand in irritation. Shanthala’s mom was surprised to see so much emotion in a cat and that was the turning point of her affections for him. She told everyone who’d listen about Kitty now and she’d usually start with that story.
When we were living in India about two years ago, one evening we went to our owner’s house, downstairs, and had a pleasant evening chatting with them. When we opened our front door upon returning, we heard a really loud wailing or screeching sound, one that terrified me. I had not heard Kitty making that sound before. I then saw a feral cat rush out from our bedroom, leap to the living room window and slip away. I rushed in to find Kitty hiding under the bed from where he refused to come out till much later. I later read that this sound is called caterwauling and is produced when the cat is fighting with another cat and the other cat won’t back down. I never heard Kitty produce that sound again.
Shanthala would joke that Kitty and I could have a conversation in which we understood each other. One such conversation happened one evening when Shanthala was on call. I was going up to take bath and Kitty was coming down. As we passed each other, I said “Kitty, what’s the plan for the day ?”. He stopped and half turning grunted a sound which sounded like “I don’t know”. I said “I’m going up to take bath. Do you to come with me ?”. He looked up at me, seemed to think for a few seconds and uttered a “yes” meow, turned around and climbed back the stairs with me and sat by the bathtub as I had a shower.
The last sound he produced before he died was hiss at the doctor who had come to euthanize him. She had pricked and prodded him the previous day in an attempt to get his kidneys to recover and he was mad at her. That morning, as he lay by the door, in a torpor with all the toxins accumulating in his body, the sun came out. I asked him “Kitty, do you want to come lie in the sun ?” and opened the drapes, letting the sunlight stream through. He meowed a soft “yes” and lifting himself with effort, crawled to the sun and collapsed there.
It’s been six months since those last sounds. My brain struggles against itself to remember those sounds. I remember many of them, but fear how accurate they are. How I wish we could hear our nightingale one more time.
Fare thee well my nightingale
I lived but to be near you
Though you are singing somewhere still
I can no longer hear you – Leonard Cohen & Anjani
