Jean Marie's Domain

Duzell, the amazing rescue cat, continues to surprise us.  In all the time we've known him, he's exhibited only two bad habits.  He scratches one particular ottoman when he's mad--which is kind of funny because he was declawed long before we met him.  (Don't tell him I said that.  I have to reprimand him every time he tries.  It's the principle of the thing.)  And whenever you pull something aromatic from the frig, he tries convince you, with every vocalization in his extensive repertoire, your portion is the only thing standing between him and imminent death from starvation.  
At least that's what we thought he was doing.  Earlier this week, when Duzie launched into his usual dinnertime whinge, on a whim I said, "You really know how to sing for your supper, cat."
Damned if Duzie didn't sit back on his haunches and give me an aria.  "Sing, Duzie," I said.  
Again, he did.
Greg and I have been checking out this unexpected added feature of the little guy in the fur suit ever since.  In addition to singing for his supper, Duzie will also sing on command--or rather, on request.  He is a cat, after all.  He’ll sing if you show him a dish, even a dish he knows is empty.  Hope apparently springs eternal in the feline breast too.

Today Greg persuaded Duzie to join him in a duet.  The cat went along with it, despite his obvious doubts about Greg’s ability to hold a tune.  You know, maybe I do need to get headphones for my Ipod after all… 

Meanwhile, I can’t help wondering what else we don’t know about our cat.  Wish I could’ve met his original human.  Duzie consistently shows himself to be smarter than the people around him.  It’s a humbling experience to live with an alien intelligence and know you lack the wits to plumb the extent of his knowledge.
But I think it's going to be fun trying.  :-)