Jess a.k.a The Screamer
Any cat that makes it to ten years old develops some quirks, if they didn’t have them to begin with. Blackie loved to lick the windows, creating huge smears of drool that had to be scrubbed off daily. Another cat (who shall remain nameless) liked to have relations with the pillow that was shaped like a hamburger in the presence of guests. Phantom feels it is his duty to groom all the family dog’s faces, and will hold their heads down with his claws until they either run from him or give up and submit to it. But perhaps the weirdest quirk I’ve experienced is in Jesse Darling, a small nine-pound black and white cat. She’s a screamer.
She screams morning, noon and night for whatever she wants. The more she wants something, the louder and more piercing the scream. My husband describes it as being able to curdle milk, and he’s not exaggerating. What is amazing is that it’s not just her volume, but also her tenacity.
If I’m on the treadmill and Jess wants a lap, she will sit on the edge of the couch two feet away and scream at me every five minutes for forty-five minutes straight. She will repeatedly shatter the dinner conversation at the table asking for a piece of meat, or just a lap. At six in the morning, she will scream outside the bedroom door every fifteen to ten minutes until I get up, whether that takes me another three hours, or a few minutes. Each cry is just as piercing and startling as the last. She never, ever gives up. The screaming doesn’t stop in the morning until the food has been set out, the litter box is clean, the fire is burning nicely (if its winter) or she’s been let outside (if its summer). As I do each chore, she changes position, stridently telling me what needs to be done next.
So how do we handle this? We try to give her what she wants as fast as possible. The cats and the fire are always the first chores done in the morning. If Jess wants a piece of meat, she gets it, no matter if its twenty-dollar steak or hamburger. If she wants a lap and we’re sitting, we give her a boost up, and then try to work very carefully, so as not to upset her, even when that means leaning our body sideways so we can type to the point our back hurts. That’s the standing agreement: we do what she wants, and Jess agrees not to teach our four other cats to scream. It’s worked so far, and we’re not taking any chances.
She screams morning, noon and night for whatever she wants. The more she wants something, the louder and more piercing the scream. My husband describes it as being able to curdle milk, and he’s not exaggerating. What is amazing is that it’s not just her volume, but also her tenacity.
If I’m on the treadmill and Jess wants a lap, she will sit on the edge of the couch two feet away and scream at me every five minutes for forty-five minutes straight. She will repeatedly shatter the dinner conversation at the table asking for a piece of meat, or just a lap. At six in the morning, she will scream outside the bedroom door every fifteen to ten minutes until I get up, whether that takes me another three hours, or a few minutes. Each cry is just as piercing and startling as the last. She never, ever gives up. The screaming doesn’t stop in the morning until the food has been set out, the litter box is clean, the fire is burning nicely (if its winter) or she’s been let outside (if its summer). As I do each chore, she changes position, stridently telling me what needs to be done next.
So how do we handle this? We try to give her what she wants as fast as possible. The cats and the fire are always the first chores done in the morning. If Jess wants a piece of meat, she gets it, no matter if its twenty-dollar steak or hamburger. If she wants a lap and we’re sitting, we give her a boost up, and then try to work very carefully, so as not to upset her, even when that means leaning our body sideways so we can type to the point our back hurts. That’s the standing agreement: we do what she wants, and Jess agrees not to teach our four other cats to scream. It’s worked so far, and we’re not taking any chances.
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