Oh, Loki.
You are probably a very normal cat, but since Thor is not a normal cat and we only have him for comparison, you seem like a very, very strange little lady cat.
I mentioned before that the cats don't typically sleep with us. Maybe once a week. However, apparently, even that brief amount of time spent cuddling under the covers, purring, joyful and content, has spoiled Loki to anything else.
She has gotten into the absolutely horrifying habit of pressing her tiny mouth to our (closed) door in the middle of the night, clawing at the frame and screaming something terrible. For hours, if we let her.
Maybe we should have named her Banshee.
This is all even stranger because, when we adopted her, Loki was a very, very quiet cat. Unlike Thor, who, as a kitten, mewed and chattered to himself ad nauseum, Loki rarely made a peep. She didn't meow, or cry, or hiss. She only purred like a perfectly-tuned little sportscar. As she has grown older, she has incorporated strange sounds into her vocabulary. She squeaks and chirps a lot, chuttering at the birds or when she is woken up. She growls and hisses violently when we trim her claws.
And now, she cries piteously when we go to bed. She howls. She weeps. She shrieks. She has made up for those few months of silence with a torrent of shrill howls that are, of course, designed ultimately to show her affection for us.
Of course.
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