It takes a hillbilly to know one. Be a little hillbilly with me here.
Been allot of talk around these parts about cats lately, lots of love and lore, and we get it; but it’s the hillbilly’s parvew to put a realistic spin on things. You might not like it much, but then, you’re not a cat.
First and foremost, and always and forever cats are murderous savages. If you were the size and shape of a mouse, your little Puffy would happily gobble you up as a morsel.
They are remorseless carnivores for Pete’s sake! Get a grip.
If you’ve lived with cats, it would be understandable for you to be taken in by their spell as they can seem quite amiable when fed royally and often; but put it outside to fend for itself and observe what little Sugar Lump becomes. Better yet try living with fifty or more feral types and another dozen or more in your home. Feed them and they will breed quicker than the Cottontail and bulrush the door anytime you open it.
Yes, your Fi Fluff is different, we know; but what’s really on a cat’s mind is only for a cat to know and chances are very high that food has a lot to do with it.
And sex.
The mating ritual is violent and savage, more like rape when the Tom’s compete by fighting and the females capitulate to any comer who can overtake her. Rivalries last long and this one has observed outright murder (layed in wait to chase a rival in front of a passing car). Disease is rampant with infestations of fleas and ticks, mortality is high, and in the countryside, black kittens are most likely to survive to adulthood because they are less visible to night predators. And they are vectors for rabies.
But we still love them, don’t we. Have favorites myself. Just be glad you’re not a mouse or a tasty little bird.
Now their urine is a thing to behold if unattended and their feces hard as stone particularly when trampled on by people and animals; you’ll have to use a scraper and lots of elbow grease to bring it off the floor, but the smell is permanent.
Rather more partial to the Polecat who is native to these parts, its affairs are done purely in the outdoors and its urine (from afar and preferably with a day or so of curing) smells of fresh brewed coffee (or is it fresh brewed coffee that smells like skunk piss?).
And is it me or has anyone else noticed that cats age into utter dementia? Most times becoming highly verbal and sometimes argumentative; had one who would face me down and stare fix-eyed at me while uttering the most ghastly things.
A favorite activity is tossing kittens into the hay bales. Cats are kinky, they love kinky stuff. The kits will come running back begging for more…all in good fun.
One of the survivors (black of course) found her way to the house, her continued existence depended on doing everything right, a clever one. Rescued her a hundred times from treeing herself, to being stalked by Barred owls or a curious opossum. She littered no fewer than twice in a year and was a great-great-great grandmother once over (if she were a sow, we would be knee deep in bacon). One litter of three gorgeous specimens followed us everywhere and when they were juveniles there seemed to be one watching me wherever to be found, and since they all looked alike it got to be downright uncanny.
Shrieking cats can be heard for miles on a hot summer night, you can call it love if you like.
Been around cats you’d swear were crossed with rabbits. They hopped more than run and their tails were perfect cotton balls. Now a cat’s tail is the reason they balance so well and without one they are ungainly and bobble a lot, comical oddballs. Not the case for the Bobtail cat who is native, its powerful haunches give it a good center of gravity. Rarely seen because she is solitary, her instincts are every bit a killer’s.
There is nothing strange or unusual about a cat’s true nature; the strange and unusual are the attributes we give them, which are, strictly speaking, human attributes. We conjure these iterations of the cat for our own delight, master manipulators. Without us they will mutate or disappear, part of the food chain. Should they be allowed to evolve back to the Sabretooth our roles might be reversed. That should comfort you as you snuggle your little fur ball while it purrs plaintively in your palm.
Just sayin’.
All my life there have been cats; they know us better than we know ourselves and if closely observed they show us what wild is…ruthless, cunning and game for intrigue.
Well the cat came back, the very next day, the cat came back, thought it was a goner but the cat came back, it just wouldn’t stay away…traditional folk tune.
Having had two black cats, I'm convinced they're Zen masters in animal form. My current cat taught the other neighborhood cat to patrol the territory in exactly the same way, stopping in the same spots to check things out. Uncanny.
He does a bunch of humanesque things, too bizarre to mention here without me coming across as a crazy cat lady.
Best of all, he has white markings at his throat and covering his lower belly like a speedo. He's what ZZ Top might consider a Sharp Dressed Man. Your first 80s song! -- https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7wRHBLwpASw
Btw, I know the video is naff -- very 80s!
Reading this, the title of one of my favorite books of the past five or so years came to mind: "Will My Cat Eat My Eyeballs?" The subtitle provides context: "Big Questions From Tiny Mortals About Death."