I have known few cats in my life who have ‘meowed’. Tungsten did, and of those still with me, Tucker comes the closest. Renn whines, Neville mumbles and grumbles. Cammie growled and barked. Josie’s voice was like a rusty hinge on an old garage door. But Portia’s conversation is something to hear. She makes Josie sound like Sarah Brightman.
The longer she is with me, the more this calico girl talks, especially when she wants out of the library. She can throw a spate of verbiage at me, all of it sounding like giant granite boulders being pulled across rough, gravelly ground. I think this is a good sign, rather like a shy person becoming loquacious as she grows more comfortable with her surroundings, though Portia is very likely impatient with my periodic lack of comprehension.
But that’s all right. We’ll come to understand one another soon. And maybe she’ll start to moderate her speech, and use a language less harsh and strident, like Klingon.