Talking to the cat...

Okay, so I talk to my cat and answer myself in a cat voice. Is that so very strange? Some people talk to the dead, others to themselves, so talking to your cat is okay, right? At least Luna is another sentient and living creature and it’s better than talking to vegetables, which I find myself doing sometimes, particularly carrots, maybe it’s the colour orange because I don’t feel the need to talk to onions.

Talking, what a strange gift it is. I used to talk all the time particularly in meetings. Of course I never actually said anything and in many ways it was like talking to cabbages because nobody was really listening. These days though, when I’m not talking to carrots or cats, I keep most conversation to a minimum; or at least a minimum for me as I do have a tendency to be verbose. As I often say, ‘Why use one word when you can use a whole dictionary, lexicon, vocabulary, or thesaurus worth?

Sometimes I gabble, my words running out of my mouth without me really thinking about it. This can be quite dangerous because, although my brain is engaged, the part of my mind that stops me saying what is in it seems to shut down. It’s like my conversation becomes a machine gun with the safety off and I rat-a-tat out words based around what I want to say and not what people want to hear.

Quite often I say things that aren’t even meant to come out and sometimes they are things I didn’t even realise I was thinking. It’s a bit like mild tourettes except I’m sure that I could control it if I thought about it. And there is probably the nub of the matter, it’s not that I don’t think about what I am saying, it’s just that I don’t care how people hear me.

Perhaps I should simply put a sock in it, shut my gob, close my cakehole and keep shtum. Or maybe I should just keep on talking to my cat.