It's been tough getting Socks off the couch today, even when I was offering a treat late in the evening. He just looked up for a few minutes, got up stretching, came for his treat and promptly went back to the couch.
After my friend Sean visited for a few minutes, Socks was a little more lively. He went around the apartment doing his "squeak toy" voice for awhile, which I translate to mean either "Let me go outside" or "Bring back the guy who was just rubbing me".
The meow that Socks has - if one can really call it a meow - has to be heard to be believed. He's a good sized boy of a cat that looks something like a little football player (if cats could play football), but always comes out with this tiny little "squeak" when he wants to express himself. Perhaps it's all the steroids.
Socks isn't very vocal. He can go through a whole day without saying much. He doesn't "beg" for food, treats or attention by meowing, but will just look up at you with a bit of longing and a quest for sympathy in his eyes. Once in a while, he'll wander around the apartment "squeaking" for no reason that I can figure out. If you pet him or talk to him, he just wanders around and squeaks some more. Perhaps he just wants to hear himself talk or maybe he's complaining about the general state of the kitty economy or the attitude of the Bush administration towards animals.
He spent pretty much all night on the bed curled up next to me and briefly did his squeaky voice this morning after I got up. Which, in this case, probably translated to "Hurry up and clean out my litter box, dammnit!" He sat in front of the sliding doors this morning watching me leave ... sigh... so sad with those big eyes...