Yesterday the vet told Hank, “Older cats do a lot of howling.” No freaken kidding.
My cats used to be silent, back when they were younger and exercised their bodies and not just their vocal cords. Now it’s like backstage at the opera house at any given hour of the day, and sometimes it starts to feel like a cat looney bin around here.
I’d like to know what on Earth gave my cats the green light to vocalize their incredible existential angst all the time?? Haven’t they noticed we humans may bitch and complain for a period of time, but we rarely emit the kind of death-moans that cats turn out like no tomorrow.
This morning, Brody thought 5 am was his cue for a solo aria of pathetic woe, presented not ten inches from my left ear. His true talent, however, lies in warbling through the apartment singing the cat blues to the world at large. It’s not pretty. It’s unnerving. I can tune the cat out, but I can’t tune Hank out, and he can’t tune the cat out. So I might as well not tune the cat out.
Life is thus made more anxious by anxious cats. They pick up our anxiety and give it back in feedback-like feline warbling. Sleep is ruined. Mental peace, ruined.
And now to find the experts knew this would happen years ago. It’s apparently a commonly known fact, older cats howl a lot. What else did they fail to warn us about??
I swear younger cats should have to wear a label. “May eventually emit brain-curdling noises throughout the night, leading to a reduction in complete well-being and brain power for any nearby humans.”