My roommate, Haley, has a very vocal, very needy cat. In fact, I would even go so far as to say this cat should probably consider seeking professional help for her codependent tendencies. This cat has an annoying, pathetic, raspy, forlorn meow. Something bad happened to this cat in a past life and she's still torn up about it. Anyway, when she gets into one of her meowing kicks, I sometimes meow back, as obnoxiously as I am able.
"Mmmrrrrwwwwooowww...mreowww-ow-ow-owww." The cat taunts.
"Mrrrrrrrrrrrrwwwooowwwwwwwwwwwwww!" I retort passionately, daring her to out-meow me.
We were playing this game just now, as I was tagging pictures on Facebook from Haley's and my recent cruise. As I became engrossed in the meticulous process of tagging, I stopped responding to the cat's cries. She must have gotten bored too, because she soon fell silent. Suddenly, the silence was broken with a particularly piercing meow.
From the other bedroom came an angry accusation. "Was that you or her?!" Haley was apparently over this little meowing game I had going with her cat.
"It was her! I swear!" I pleaded in defense.
"No, it's not! That was human!"
"It wasn't me! I haven't meowed for, like, a whole minute!"
I really shouldn't be meowing in the first place. We humans speak. If you ask a toddler, "What sound does a cat make?" the response will be "meow." If you ask a toddler what sound a human makes, I don't know what the answer would be, but it definitely wouldn't be "meow."
My meowing days are over.
