Oh, that is one sweet, pretty kitty! I love my Fritters, but sometimes I wish she were more sweet (like your kitty) and less neurotic.
But then, my cat takes after me, doesn’t she? 
Mine is greeted with
I just tried to teach Smokey this song. She was not amused.
Your kitten, sir.
Oh, thank you very much.
To Creaky and anyrose:
SQUEEEEEEE!!! KITTTEEEHHHH!!!
Carry on.
OK I will confess.
When I get home, shedding laptop, coat, keys, purse etc, I sing out “Where’s my kitties? Where are my baby kitties?!?” And all three come running even though one is clearly not a baby kitty seeing as how she’s seven years old. Actually I’m not sure my Big Bad Kittens ™ qualify either because of how big they are.
Also I must brag. I am a successful mother. You know why I can say that? My younger son (who is a full grown adult, with wife and child) makes up silly songs to sing to HIS kitties. I RULE!
I inform them, “You smell just like a cat.” I don’t have any sense of smell, but I’m reasonably sure they do smell like cats.
I’ve posted my cat song before, but since you ask, and it’s Christmasy, here ya go:
To the tune of Do You Hear What I Hear:
Said the cat to the people everywhere
Do you see what I have?
Underneath my tail everyone
Do you see what I have?
It’s pink, it’s pink
And it doesn’t stink
Cause I wash it with my-y tongue
Yes, I wash it with my-y tongue!
In memory of Whitey
Dung Beetle, I love that song!
I have had many cats, have one now, and love them dearly but I never baby-talk to them for some reason. Usually, I insult them in an endearing way:
“Hey! You’re small and insignificant. You must be a cat!”
Or sing to them:
You’re a fat black cat
You sit in a hat
You sleep on a mat
You look like Yasser Arafat!
Whaddya think of that?
That is a Kliban Cat!.
I often tell Cricket she is my Crickerkiddercat.
Thank you, I consider it my magnum opus. :o
As embarassing that it is to post it here, I too have a little ditty for my wife’s cats:
Puss, puss, pussers,
Sittin’ on the rug.
Puss, puss, pussers,
Banjo and the Mug…
…zee.
I only sing to Banjo and Mugsie. Rider’s a spaz.
I talk to my two cats when I get home from work. I usually say, “So which trash cans have you decided to leave upright today?”
I come in the house through the garage into the mudroom/laundry room. I stand right there and say 'who’s the first kitty I see???" The first cat to come right where I can see him or her gets all the first nuzzles.
It’s usually Cuervo, even if he has to come racing down the stairs to beat the others.
Then I say ‘who’s the little baby boy, huh? who needs their fooders???’
Then I man up, scratch myself and look at porn or something.
Same here. I call Ishtar “pupuce”-- “little flea”; I call Athena-Gaia “ma poulette” (my chicken), and I called Shaku, “mon papou” or mon “Papou a poux” (apologies to the Papuan people, this comes from a childhood rhyme). Even though I speak English most of the time in everyday life, I always speak to my pets in French. I got my first pet when I spent a year at my French-speaking grandparents’ house.
When I speak about the cats, I refer to them by name, but rarely use their real names in speaking to them. Yes, I do speak to them. Happy to see I’m not alone.
While English-speaking cats understand Hebrew, I prefer to practice Vietnamese with them because it messes with their tiny heads.
For some reason, when our mistresses speak to me, I tend to reply in German. Or with Donovan lyrics. “Goo-goo, goo-goo barabajackal” means something in Feline Standard, apparantly.
What would it look like if a cat had a blog?
It would look like this:
Start at the beginning and read forward.
For extra hilarity, read it aloud in the voice of Mitch Hedburg.
Warning, avoid September 2005 unless you want to cry like a crying really hard person.
I do the same thing! Sometimes it’s my husband’s mean kitty who only wants to escape, and then he goes “mrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrown!” if I try to snuggle him, and then he bites me. He’s no fun.
I say, “Who needs foodz?!?” You and I are like, twins, except for this part:
