Who Owns Whom?

I am amazed at the ability my cats have to communicate with me.  You'd think for an animal that has a brain the size of--hang on, let me check--a kiwi, let's say, they wouldn't have that much to say.  Ah, but they are devious little buggers.  It's like I have two furry ten-pound kids with razors attached to their feet.  I digress.  Not only do I know each cat by their meow, but I know what each meow means.  For instance, when Emma says, "MEOW!" that means, "Did you forget about me?  Why aren't you petting me?  How dare you forget about me, insolent fool!"  You know, come to think of it, that's pretty much all she ever says.  Well, she talks to D'Artagnan occasionally, but she usually says, "We are not amused."

Now D'Artagnan, on the other hand, says a bit more.  Usually it's, "Good lord, I can't do my business in that box!  Change the litter, man! It's like a port-o-potty at Woodstock in there!"  This is very similar to and often confused with, "Hey you!  Come down here! I want to feign excitement about playing with you, and then get tired of it after 30 seconds.  Sucker!"  He also likes to remind us when we sleep in: "Hey!  You're supposed to be up by now!  You're going to be late for...wherever it is you go all day."  I swear he can read a clock.  Digital, that is. I'm not too sure about analog yet.  Time will tell.