Homemade lexicon – purrfect purrsonal words

 

Every family has its own lingo, words whose meaning is only known to the members of the household. Sometimes parents and children share this lexicon but often also have separate lists. In my house, as both my wife and I have “adult children”, as the expression goes, our child is a cat. His name is Effy. He is 10% Russian blue (the head) and 90% Maine Coon, which means his face is small and adorable while his body is quite large, almost 9 kilos. Of course, we have developed a certain vocabulary for him either by combining, redefining or simply modifying words. Whatever the case, they perfectly describe certain behavior, far better than standard language.

The first term is catnapping, which is actually a combination of kidnapping and catnap. To explain, adult cats spend much of the day sleeping, far more than humans do. My wife and I alo enjoy, not to say require, an hour-long nap around 2:30 in the afternoon. By that time, Effy has been in and out of consciousness, mainly out, for several hours. On the other hand, his purring and body heat are quite an effective somnific. Thus, it is necessary to gently pick up, duly noted against his will, the rolled-up, deeply asleep cat and place him in the bed. This is “catnapping” as we define it. By the way,  he doesn’t seem to mind it at all. All three of us enjoy our deep, satisfying nap.

A similar creation is catfishing. While a cat does have whiskers somewhat like a catfish, our term is a gerund referring to playing with a cat using a feather and rattling metal ball attached to a small fishing rod. It seems to trigger my cat’s killer instinct, in this case against birds. He strives to grab it, rapidly jumping sideways and even upward. When he does catch it, he is loath to give it up, creating a scene from one of the fishing programs on television where an angler tries to pull up the large catfish. After a few minutes of this intense activity, he goes back to sleep, having earned his rest and restoring his energy for the next catfishing session. I feel the same way.

Earring in our house has nothing to do with jewelry. It does refer to the thrice-daily personal care that Effy insists on receiving. To explain, every morning, afternoon and evening, he intentionally places his large ears in a position easily accessible to either or both of my hands. He then patiently sits as I continuously knead, not rub, them for at least a minute or so or until I get tired of it, which he finds quite disappointing. What we humans fail to understand is how his ears don’t fall off but nature is amazing, apparently. Earring has become our “language of love”, a form of bonding.

Unfortunately, not everything a child (or cat) does is charming. Their habits can be quite annoying, in fact. One of our issues is shoe-icide, a term coined by Hilary Decaumont. Put simply, in his moments of activity, especially upon our return from the outside world when the scents on our shoes are the freshest, he feels the need to interact with our shoes. The form of this action often resembles rape or murder. The result is complete disorder in the previously neat row of shoes next to the bed. My wife does not appreciate this and swears that one day she will have a proper shoe closet to protect her precious footwear. In the meantime, Effy livens up his day and regularly reminds us that cats have never been domesticated. As the song from MASH* goes, “Shoe-icide is painless, it causes many changes, and I can take or leave it if I please….”

In the world of standard language and AI homogenization, family-specific terminology is a breath of relief and serves as a shibboleth of one’s small tribe. Like a reference to a vacation incident in the distant past, only those in the “in” will understand. The terms chosen are both perfect and personal.