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Ode to psycho cats
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Ode to psycho cats |
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patchoulipumpkin Member
since 2000-01-01
Posts 196Bermuda |
I almost wrote something today. It wasn’t major or anything, nothing groundbreaking or life sustaining, it was just something. I wonder what I would have written, surely it would have been funny, cause well I’m funny and its natural, surely it would have been insightful, something to probe the uncertainties within the universe. Could I have written about elephants? I don’t know that’s a good question, I don’t know much about elephants except that their grey and big, and can hurt you if you get stepped on by them. That pretty much goes for all animals, I don’t know them that well, except that they can be cute, ugly, mean, lovable, hard, soft, wonderful, disgusting, scary, endearing and warm and cold. Although, I do like dogs, dogs are cool, they make me feel comfortable because they make you seem like they always want you around. Cats are a different story, with cats they are the humans-that crave attention and coddling. They brush by your leg, enticingly, almost seductively it seems, telling you to look at them, “Hey baby, look at my coat, I just got it from next door”, “so you gonna feed me or what?”. Sure cats love you, they love you because you feed them, pet them, provide warmth so that they can lie on your bed and lap, and give you the impression that you are caring for them when really, these tiny little moments of seeming affection, are really just “prostituting” moments for the cat who is building up a healthy resume with you to ensure that he/she will be fed in the future. But then there really are cats that are more canine than feline. They get walloped on the side when its burly, manly, owner extends his version of love and caring, so that the cat builds up this immunity to its otherwise stealth-like, and fey-like world, to endure these forms of affection, and walks around in a slightly more stunted routine, as if on guard from a broadside of “violent loving”. Its odd to find these sorts of cats around, because most of the cats I know are treated like wayward travellers just passing through, and are fed on demand, as if they are on some kind of high endurance mission that they need sustenance for and the owner implicitly appreciates and respects. When I come upon a house where a cat is more dog like, it saddens me in a way, because as I look at these, often overweight, cats I think how they have sold out their feline instincts for domesticity, and are not remaining true to their feline herd. Its kind of like the hubris of Animal Farm, where the pigs take on human characteristics and eventually forget how to be themselves and are, not without reason, called “fat cats”. And then of course there is the whole other category of cat, the psycho cat. The psycho works on too many levels for there to be any real scientific understanding of them, because their very nature, which is so unpredictable, and inconsistent belies any analysis. My father’s cat, since deceased (I’m not sure whether to mourn or quietly celebrate), was a psycho cat. One minute you could be petting it, while the next you would be walking to the kitchen to find a suitable object to pry its teeth and claws from out of your arm. The unsettling nature of these cats is that it makes any potential “lover” have to be on guard for any spontaneous assault that may rise from what would be as innocuous as a tickle under the chin. One incident that I remember vividly, still makes me laugh, somewhat anxiously, in disbelief. I was lying down on the living room floor in front of my father’s fireplace enjoying a cup of coffee, when my dad’s cat started cirlcing me like a shark. This should have been my first sign of warning, but I must have been caught in some kind of placid reverie, because I immediately began petting her. However, little did I know that her circling was a manipulative scheme to get me to notice her so that she could further communicate what she wanted from me. In other words, she didn’t want to be pet, she wanted something from me. As I kept petting her with disregard to her masked signs of communication, she suddenly reared up and sunk her teeth into my forearm. I screamed, and started shaking my arm to get her off, but was forced to endure enough pain by her, for me to realize that she meant business and was in need. After what seemed like an unending minute of pain, she suddenly bolted to the front door where she waited for me, to open the door. At this moment I understood. She wanted to go outside, but was tired of meowing and calling for her needs, because as unintelligent humans we must have mistook these meows as forms of affection for us and after hearing them would pet her more intensely, thinking that this is what she was asking for. So, to get our attention she would scratch and bite, almost in pity for us dumb humans who didn’t understand her wavelength. It was as if she was saying “wake up dumbass, quit petting me and treating me like a goddamn cat, I need to piss”. In other words,( coincidentally or not, I believe it wasn’t), she was a realist, like my father, who didn’t have time for our inflated projections that she was an infirm and fragile creature, that needed reasurrance and tending. Instead, it was us, that was suffering from the delusion, and we would frequently be taught of our shortcomings by carefully calculated teeth and claw marks-instructions that we weren’t half as human as we thought we were. Perhaps the clearest indication of the peculiar nature of my father’s cat was that it chased small dogs of the neighbourhood, with an existential confidence that would even surprise my dad. Following these ambushes, my father would sometimes get embarassing calls from neighbours, who couldn’t quite believe that they had witnessed Fifi fleeing from a pint-sized leapoard spotted thing that, to them, seemed like it should have been bigger to account for its ferocity. Unfortunately, the cat was hit by a car, likely because she was trying to take it on in combat, and tragically overestimated her capabilities. I imagine her lying hurt, breathing heavily in an angered way, as if she was a high ranking officer in an army who was pissed off that he had been shot, and left this world in a swirl of enmity and rage against it for not being allowed one more chance to take on the enemy. I think psycho cats are filled with a soul that transcends their bodily existence, and when they realize they are constrained by it, they try every desperate action to push itself beyond its limitations, in an almost monk-like determination and focus. And while we are never accepted in their world, we are humbled with the knowledge that they were not accepted in their own. |
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PhaerieChild Senior Member
since 1999-08-30
Posts 1787Aloha, Oregon |
Has my cat been visiting you? This sounds exactly like Sneakers. He's meaner than ten vipers and he too terrorizes small dogs and he's only 5 months old. My poor schnauzer is terrified of him! He attacks without provocation and then wants food. Go figure. Great read. Really enjoyed the giggles. Poetry~ Words falling on paper, painting a dream. Shawna R. Holder Boise, Idaho |
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Poet deVine
Administrator
Member Seraphic
since 1999-05-26
Posts 22612Hurricane Alley |
This is great! I was enthralled...and I read it to my two cats..they are a bit spoiled and like to have stories and poetry read to them - something about the fact that they don't want to put their eyeglasses on! They lie in wait for me here in my room on top of my bookcases....they treat me like the humble servant I am!  |
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Ted Reynolds Member
since 1999-12-15
Posts 331 |
Excellent prose. If you are this stylishly sprightly often and consistently, you should be angling for at least a local newspaper column. Goes without saying, I really enjoyed it, or I wouldn't write this. |
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Pepper Member Elite
since 1999-08-19
Posts 3079Southern Florida |
 This was a delightful piece. Brought many chuckles with my coffee this morning....Wonderful writing here Patchoulipumpkin...left me wanting more A soul that writes from the heart and shares it, truly gives a gift extraordinaire! Shannon |
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merely_a_jester Member
since 2000-01-14
Posts 67Arkansas... that's all you get |
an enjoyful read all around your talent is evident and i hope to read much more from you merely a jester |
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devina Member Elite
since 1999-10-28
Posts 3539Cali |
I have two cats of my own, 10 mths old, and they are like my children- so I guess I am guilty of spoiling them into fat cats. I enjoyed the read, cute! Open arms can be the most fragile in the world... |
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Saxoness
since 1999-07-18
Posts 1102Texas |
This is axactly like my cat Tia! Except when she bites or scratches...she'll lick you afterwards...sort of like saying..."no hard feelings" "Glory remains unaware of my neglected dwelling where alone I sing my tearful song which has charms only for me." -Charles Brugnot |
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Astraea Member
since 1999-11-09
Posts 378California! Yeah! Okay, I'm done now |
Wow. Lots of cats rush around here and I can't help imagining every single one of them in this one. ~Astraea "Sometimes stars can only be seen in darkness." "Sorrow's crown of sorrow is remembering happier things." |
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Christopher
Moderator
Member Rara Avis
since 1999-08-02
Posts 8296Purgatorial Incarceration |
I MISS MY KITTY CATS!!! |
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Echo Rhayne Senior Member
since 1999-09-17
Posts 1495Canyon Country, CA |
MEOW!! Loved it, just got done cat sitting Oliver, the psycho kitty, I sure enjoyed it though!! I enjoyed this piece!! >^..^< ~*~ ^i^ ~*~ Love is such a lonely art, and death is but a taste. Minds are merely instruments that often go to waste! ~*~ ^i^ ~*~ |
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