Serious Cat Is Serious

These are two separate images of a feral cat sitting by a stream. The cat in the context of said stream is pictured at left. I came upon this cat by accident whilst parking my auto-motive conveyance device unit. As one can see from the photo, he, and I am assuming his gender as he never did back down and turn away, which would have allowed me to view his privates, is not a cat who is likely to take crap from anyone or anything. No, this is not a conniving Top Cat or OCD-ridden Tom (of Tom and Jerry fame) or some fuzzy internet meme. This is one serious-assed cat, ready to scratch out his name in your forehead or chew off your lips, should he find your lifeless body discarded, post-homicide, in the tall grass.

Don’t get me wrong – I love cats. They are crazy cool. They don’t need you or me for anything. Sure. they’ll hang out at your house as long as you have something worthwhile to offer – food, that pile of comfy sweaters you’ve been meaning to put away in the attic all spring that make the perfect spot to deposit a matt of fur after too many curled-up naps to count, a shaft of sunlight, food. Did I mention food? Most won’t be bothered to come when called nor will they want to do tricks or make cutie-pie faces to please Master or Mistress. Oh, they can do tricks: they just don’t want to denigrate themselves. So, “house” cats may be domestic, but I am pretty sure that they’re not entirely domesticated – they just want you to think that they are.

When a cat pees on a wall, say, it’s not because he’s being bad or that he’s forgotten how to use the litterbox. He does it because he can. Cats have an acute sense of smell, so that spraying cat knows full well that you’re going to smell Eau de Felis the minute you walk in the door. And there he will be perched – on your navy blue peacoat or velour couch, depositing impossible-to-entirely-remove cat fibers on your favourite fabrics, staring you down as if to say, “yeah, what?” On the other hand, a dog will let loose because he has no other damn choice since you decided to stop off at Target to pick up a Raspberry Entemann’s on that super hot day during which he managed to gulp down, one tongue-coating at a time, a two-quart-sized bowl of water and he just couldn’t hold on any longer. And then, he experiences the duality of being a dog: exquisite relief as the yellow puddle on your kitchen floor spreads out like pancake batter on a too-cold griddle with the momentary knowledge that you will be none too pleased as you slide across that same-said yellow lake on your way to depositing your baked treat on the formica of that table you should really have thrown away already, so old as to be pre-retro.

Dog: sad face, knows he did something to displease, ready to be contrite. Cat: f*ck you, gimme food. Smaller brain, yet, somehow, smarter, n’est ce pas? Methinks I prefer the attitude of Serious Cat. No pity, no question, just action when it’s called for, otherwise, maintain the status quo and preserve energy. Sound like an excellent strategy for survival to me.