Today I called Kenzie and had a ten minute conversation with the cat.

This afternoon Kenz was dressing up her wooden angel dogs ("angels because they don't have buttons"), so I asked her why she wasn't dressing up Isis, the cat, too.
"She's sleeping."
"Oh, that makes sense," I said. "When she wakes up can you say 'hi' to her for me?"
"Would you like to talk to her now?"
"No, let her sleep. Tell me what you're up to?"
I heard rustling sounds over the receiver as Kenzie adjusted the phone up to the cat's furry face. Click. I was on speaker phone now.
"She's trying to get away from it, but speak, Isis, speak," Kenzie said.
There was a long beat of silence on the other line. Uh oh, I thought. What is she doing to the cat?
"Kenzie? I can call Isis back later. Are you there?"
"Meee-eee-eee-ew."
Isis is the kind of cat who's in every room but you'll never know unless she's hungry or really pissed off. In this case, she was not hungry.
"Mew to you too, Isis," I said. "Kenzie, how'd you get her to talk?"
"I don't know."
"What did she say?"
"Hello, hello, hello. And thank you for petting me."

Isis is not an angel cat, but she sure is a saint. And McKenzie knows how to push her buttons.