This is Rain, and she’s about 18 1/2 years old.
She’s dealing with some mystifying medical issues which may someday soon be leading to her final adventure, but I figure sharing her with you guys is a good thing while she’s in a good spot.
Some stories:
Summary
She was found in a rainstorm at 2 weeks old, hence her name. Technically feral, but she’s always been of the mind that the rest of the world is far more uncivilized than her.
She was EXTREMELY vocal, and I’d talk back to her whenever she meowed. I didn’t quite get it for a time, but she was really, honestly trying to communicate. She now knows several words of English. Food, up, down, come, stay, go, yes, no; those she learned quickly. But “Go get Gabe” (my son’s name) and a few other more complex things she started picking up around the age of maybe 3 or 4. But all that meowing… so I taught her the “silent meow,” for whenever she wanted me to come or get her food. She trained me pretty well to hear the clicking sound of her tongue as she opened her mouth.
So I finally found some peace and quiet, although this led to an interesting moment. I like to cook. I may not be a great (or even good) cook, but I enjoy it. So one day I was making falafel, but got the heat a little too high for the oil and it started to smoke. I didn’t think too much of it; I turned on the fan and kept on cooking.
Rain, however? She assumed the worst and started silently meowing to my son: her favorite person. She was trying to lead him down the hallway. She would walk a couple feet, turn around and meow at him, glare when he wouldn’t budge, and then returned to nudge him.
“Dad, Rain’s meowing at me…”
“What?”
“She’s trying to get me to go somewhere. What should I do?”
“Follow her?”
The place was getting smokier, so I went to open some windows. In the meantime, Rain led my son down the hallway, pausing every few feet to make sure he was being more attentive this time. Past the bathroom. Past the study. Into his bedroom, where she promptly led him to hide under his bed to be “safe” with her. Of course, leaving me to die in the raging inferno of my own making (had it actually been real).
My son brought up the fact that hiding under a bed in a fire isn’t too wise. So a very smart cat, but no fireman… er, firecat?