Try not to hate me; I am writing this entry while sitting by the pool under a shady palm tree in Pompano Beach, Florida. The air temperature is 78 and the pool water is 70. It is very quiet here, except for the barking dog that someone has left alone in a truck parked a few houses down the street. The dog is barking at a mangy gray cat who is calmly sitting on the hood of the truck peering through the windshield. The cat seems to be enjoying making the mutt crazy. Maybe that's just me indulging in what they call anthropomorphism -- ascribing human characteristics to animal behavior.
It reminded me that we have now been cat-free for almost two weeks. No cats on the bed, no litter box, no yowling Siamese pestering to be fed. In other words, free.
Don’t get me wrong, I don’t dislike the cats. Between cats and dogs, I will take a cat any day. You might argue that dogs are smarter and can be trained, whereas a cat pretty much does whatever it wants, when it wants -- except when it comes to using a can opener.
The main thing I like is that cats have too much dignity to lick your hand or thrust their snout in your crotch. You toss a ball and they will refuse to chase it. They just look at you with an expression that says, "What other tricks can you do?"
The main thing I like is that cats have too much dignity to lick your hand or thrust their snout in your crotch. You toss a ball and they will refuse to chase it. They just look at you with an expression that says, "What other tricks can you do?"
The thing about pets in our modern "humane" society is that we treat them almost like infant children. We keep them indoors 24X7. They can’t do anything for themselves. You have to open the doors, feed them, clean-up after them and what do you get in return? A cat brain is about the size of an avocado pit, and like an avocado, there is not a lot going on in there. We anthropomorphize them and assume that they give us unconditional love, when in reality they are just teaching us to feed them.
Joan, the woman who is going to the house and feeding them every day, is currently the most important person in their lives. They will not miss us; they live totally “in the moment.” I do not write this as a lament, it is simply the way things are. When we return from our travels, they will wonder, “Who the heck are you, and when are you going to feed me?”
Yet, we worry about the cats constantly. By “we” I mean, of course, “Judy.”
We wonder if they are pining for a warm lap, staring listlessly out the window, wondering when we will return, telling each other cute stories about us, resolving to be better pets in the future. We have made careful arrangements to have them tended to, the heat is kept at a toasty 74 degrees, a 30 day’s supply of food is on the shelf, enough cat litter to handle an elephant is in the basement, and the nice lady who is coming every day to feed them has been thoroughly screened and CORI checked. Judy thinks we should set up video cams to ensure that the cats are being properly treated. I have resisted this effort.
We wonder if they are pining for a warm lap, staring listlessly out the window, wondering when we will return, telling each other cute stories about us, resolving to be better pets in the future. We have made careful arrangements to have them tended to, the heat is kept at a toasty 74 degrees, a 30 day’s supply of food is on the shelf, enough cat litter to handle an elephant is in the basement, and the nice lady who is coming every day to feed them has been thoroughly screened and CORI checked. Judy thinks we should set up video cams to ensure that the cats are being properly treated. I have resisted this effort.
But, here we are sitting by the pool a thousand miles away, in paradise, writing about the cats. What does that tell you?
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