Friday, November 21, 2008

My cats, their human?



I rarely get the chance to comment on the cat's blog. It seems these days that between teenagers and cats I rarely get to use the computer. But today the cats have let me post on their blog, but only because the posting is about them. It is not really that cats are ego-centric (much!)
Anyway, the other day I was asked why I chose to share my life with cats and this question got me thinking. At four in the morning when they have woken me yet again and I step on a dismembered and neatly arrange dissected mouse, or one of them decides it is too cold and windy to go out and the corner of the kitchen is just the place to poo, or one sneaks into my studio and "improves" the painting I have been working on all week, I do begin to wonder.
My first cat came to me by unhappy chance, a week old with eyes still shut, small enough to rest in the palm of my hand. His mother had been run over and I raised him like a baby until he was the biggest cat in the land. He loved to come for walks, and when I moved here he was so in love with the wildness.
He disappeared one day in September and the weather was bad so I knew something had happened. He was such a big cat and the kittens I went to see were so small that I got two. This happened more than once, and now I have six.

What I love about cats is their independence. They do not need us at all and sometimes only laziness makes them hang around with humans. Why hunt when you can get a bowl full of something tasty?
I love their utter disdain, their rudeness, their honesty. They do not stand on ceremony, or mince words. If they do not like something, or someone, they soon let you know. Cats do not know what it is to have to be polite.
I love the way they do whatever they want whenever they choose.
I love their jewel eyes and their silk fur, their warmth and the way that they sleep, in sunshine and in shadows, trusting like a baby.
I love their elegant perfection and grace of movement and luxuriousness.
But most of all I love the way they try and teach us the importance of living in the moment. They do not worry about what has happened, what might happen. They live in perfect elegance in the "now". They are small exclamations of perfection.
And so I will continue to share my life with cats. If they allow me the favour.

15 comments:

Griffin said...

"They are small exclamations of perfection. And so I will continue to share my life with cats. If they allow me the favour."

Yes they are. That is exactly why I like them. They take it as read that they are - at the very least - our equals, if not superior but we are kind of fun to have around most of the time.

I love a cat, curled up on my lap, as if I were just furniture (but comfortable and warm furniture). I love the way they rub their faces against mine to say hallo and the way they will play with you but only until they have had enough.

I am sure they will let you live with them Jackie... they need someone to open up the cat food and to talk to them and to come with them for walkies... and really, because they love you. Because you earned it. I love that about them too.

Anonymous said...

How perfectly put.One does not own a cat, a cat chooses with whom they shall bless with their company.We are the lucky ones.

Sharon said...

Exactly!

quiltcat said...

I so very agree about cats living in the moment. I've especially learned this when they were gravely ill and i have been so upset and concerned and dreading their death...cats are not thinking about eternity, they are thinking either that they are feeling extremely unwell and need to be coddled or that they are starting to feel a wee bit better and bit of something to eat would be very nice thank you.

I love my cats intensely and feel that the love is returned (with different degrees of fervor)...but you can't "make" a cat love you. It's truly a matter of choice on their part, not a pack instinct or loyalty or any of that.

Thanks for this very thoughtful post...and the lovely pictures of yourself and Pixie and Maurice.

Morning's Minion said...

I can't imagine a life without cats. The litterbox detail, the uprooted plants or scratched furniture, hair down the front of a black sweater, even the mess of hawked-up hairballs--small price to pay for the companionship of such elegant and unique creatures. The mind of a cat is beyond knowing--they share what they wish to share and then retreat for a while into some aloof and regal place enjoying their superiority.

Buskitten said...

Ah, that is so lovely - how eloquently put, it made me cry, but I am a sop when it comes to cats....
They are brilliant and beautiful, and the only bad thing is when they go, so I really hope whenever I do, those ones will be there too. That, I really hope for.....

Buskitten said...

PS,
Jac, how come you don't look any different? I have been affected by gravity!

Daisy said...

Oh, you captured the essence of what is so wonderful about cats!

beadbabe49 said...

yes!

moreidlethoughts said...

I, too, love cats for their acceptance of me on their terms.
And, yes, they are the masters of living in the moment.

Libbys Blog said...

I couldn't have put it better myself!!!!!!

Marie said...

Very well put. Beautiful photo...

Estorbo said...

An' we are reeal forcoats when eed ees cold...

Jake and Bathsheba said...

Well said!

~J&B

Bovey Belle said...

Cats do choose us, and give their love freely (if choosily!) and are such a comfort - when you are unwell, you become a cat magnet. I've never quite worked out it's because they know you're not likely to move for long periods when you are covered with 15 blankets and quilts on the sofa, or whether - since they reckon they invented Reiki - they see it as their duty to make you well again. I don't really care - it's just lovely to have them around.

We have 8 - and they came to us (with the exception of two who were born here). I often think there must be a sign on the gate saying - "this house welcomes cats." I could write a book about them, so I'd better shut up while I'm still ahead!

From a fellow cat-lover in West Wales . . .