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Cats, haicuts, manicures |
| They know. Don't ask me how they know because
I don't know. But I know they know. And I know it with the same
certainty that two and two is four. Were someone to tell me years ago what I am about to divulge here, I would have thought they were nuts. And I don't doubt that some (especially those who have never lived with cats) will think the same about me after reading what I am about to disclose. Cats are either prescient or else they fully understand the language of the household in which they live. I don't know about feral cats who are devoid of human contact, but household cats, American household cats, are far more cognizant of the English language than a lot of human beings with whom I have contact. I sensed this some years ago when I would announce just in casual passing to Mr. Chips, "Today we're going to get our nails clipped." No sooner had the words left my lips, Mr. Chips would make a beeline for a region beyond my grasp, on the floor underneath the precise middle of a king-size bed, unreachable from either side, even with a broom. There he would reside for hours, immune to all the coaxing, cajoling and tasty inducements I would dangle under the bed skirt. He would stay there until late afternoon when he intuitively knew I had resigned myself to taking him for the manicure another day. After enough challenges to my authority and enough lost battles I came to realize two things: 1) no human is a match for a cat in a battle of wills; and 2) I would no longer announce when we would have our nails clipped. Instead I would swoop down on him when he least expected it and take him prisoner. I always felt he was the smartest and most gentle creature on Earth and I should have realized, since we have been talking intimately from the day he arrived in this household, that he understood language. When I recognized that reality I assumed he was just extraordinarily gifted. He was the Einstein of felines and without peers in the kingdom of the cats. A few years later Tottie entered my life. She is a long-haired tortoise shell and one of the most beautiful cats I have ever seen. She doesn't glow with the candle power of Mr. Chips, but she, too, is a love. I take her for a haircut three times a year. And, in preparation for such a trip, I bring her carrying case out of the closet and as soon as she sees it she, makes a dash for her sanctuary, the top platform of a 7-foot-high cat condo. And, once again, beyond my reach. Today when I was going to take her to be coiffed, I closed the door to the room which houses her condo and she bolted out of the house and refused to come back regardless of the treats I waved in her direction. Two hours later when lulled to sleep on the patio by the warm sun, I grabbed her, slid her into her carrying case, and brought her to the beauty parlor, where upon leaving, she looked like a miniature lion. Ellen Copp, who is the guardian of a wonderful cat named Nellie, often says to me, "Nellie reads my mind." "I'm not surprised," I always answer. I suspect all I need to know I have learned from my cats. If I only would practice what they have taught me, I would be a far better person. Though both cats and dogs have attributes we humans should try to emulate, I think we can learn more from cats. Dogs, with their ingratiating personalities, will fall in love with anyone who offers a cookie. Cats are not standoffish, but just more discriminating. They judge character, or lack of it. Dogs because of their all embracing love for the human race, play to our vanity. They make us feel wonderful. As some philosopher said, "I wish I were half the person, my dog thinks I am." Dogs swell our heads and contribute to our arrogance. Cats engender humility and self-sufficiency in us. You can teach your dog to bring your slippers. A cat will teach you to get them yourselves. |