My youngest, the manic Molly, has probably got the biggest vocabulary; that cat could talk the hind leg off a whole herd of donkeys anyway and outwit a zillion cartloads of monkeys. Moll's high-pitched trill, a sort of 'prrrroooawwww!' can be heard day and night, usually accompanied by a hopeful smiling face. Sometimes she's a devil and she can be a bully, and then her whole body language changes; she flattens herself, ears back, ready to stalk an older cat. The word then is 'Weezil!' (Weasel) - and she knows!
Emily at almost 14 will zap her back; Emily orders us all about. She bawls at me for attention: 'Warrrr!' She's a great one for her cuddles. When she first joined me there was a feral tom in the neighbourhood (later to become my Ali Kat but we didn't know that then) who attacked every cat in sight; at that time Emily roamed; formerly feral herself, she was a cat of the 'hood and one day she marched into the garden with her tail held at a strange angle.
'Oh Emily! What have you done to your tail? Let me look!'
'No.'
So we had to go to the vet (not my present vet) who charged a stiffish price for clipping the hair off the bite-marks at the base of the tail, and a course of antibiotics.
'That vet,' said Emily. 'Taking liberties with My Tail!'
'Taking liberties with my bank balance!' I replied.
It's easy to invent dialogue of course but Mouse, my third cat, who's 13 and was constipated for a while until I read Mark B's post about the Royal Canin 'Fibre Response' food, comes over loud and clear. These days, or should I say nights, there is a loud shovelling noise from the bathroom tray, and then a wowling and hooting and wauling, as of a demented and joyous owl...the Log has landed. If Mouse hadn't told me, my nostrils would...time to get up and clean...but it's quite clear that what Mousey is saying is - 'TIMBERRRR!' A very relieved cat!
My Siamese of course always had the last word. I once said to my first girl, a blue point named Jacinth, 'Why can't you be civilised?'
'Of course I'm not civilised! I'm Siamese!'
Well, she didn't actually SAY it, but I swear she THOUGHT it!
I'd have been concerned too - Guinea Pigs are an innocent sort of beast...lol. I once had a great burly tomcat (ginger of course; gingers have chosen me all my life) with the very original name of Arthur. His voice however was a mere weedy tweet. Once I had to take him to the vet's; sitting there with a great heaving vocal cardboard carrier on my knee, I realised the woman beside me was watching with interest.