Industrial Caterwauling

Gaston, who totally does NOT look like a screamer!

the elusive Greta Garbo

So, I may have mentioned once or twice that I’m deaf.

Somewhere in there I probably also noted that I do hear a tiny bit of sound but not at all like you hearing folks do. I can only parse/interpret/process very simple, percussive type sound info and only if it's dialed up to eleven or so.

E.g., big revving motorcycles -- the sort without mufflers, melodramatic door slams (Bette Davis style), firetruck sirens (but only if they’re right on top of me), loud drumming (yes, there can be soft, gentle drumming. DO check out Mr. Terry Bozzio -- percussion god) and, as it turns out, our feral porch visiting lion Gaston when he’s on a tear.

Yesterday morning, Greta (Garbo -- she really ‘wants to be alone’ ) came for brekkie. She only shows when the coast is clear -- after Rocco and Gaston have had their morning Fancy Feasts.

While she was dining, Gaston returned. I was here at the computer, swilling coffee and reading my morning Crooks and Liars, when I heard this incredible clattering commotion coming from the porch. I dashed out to find Gaston and Greta, about 2 feet apart, staring daggers at each other.

With all the noise, I figured there was a rock 'em sock 'em, chair hurling brawl going down.

Nope. Happily, nope.

The rattle and ballyhoo was coming from Gaston’s direction -- it was utterly strange and a wee bit scary. It sounded, to me, like a huge-ass industrial ventilation fan, whirring and shuddering at top speed. Every few measures (5/4 time, best as I could tell. I believe Gaston’s a Brubeck fan) a handful of pebbles and sand was thrown into the spinning blades.

Neither cat looked about to consummate the threat-a-rama. They seemed fairly content with sound and fury. Thank Bast.

I patted Gaston, speaking in soft, hopefully calming tones and asked Greta to please relax. Then I went in to get Gaston another plate of food. I set Greta’s dish at one end of the porch and Gaston’s at the other. Not being into compromise and sharing, they both ran off at that point. Petulant beasties!

I asked The Amazing Bob to describe the sounds to me. This was, apparently, Gaston’s zombie raising yowl that he’s told me about before. TAB says he starts with a soft low growl which spirals upward to a high pitched whine/yell.

Poor boy. Maybe I should mix some Xanax in with his kibble.