The Cats

Know About Cats And Their Styles

By Stephen Mike -
As I supposed, cats are one of the coolest animals on the planet. Yes, that statement is rife with conjecture and straight up personal opinion—based on personal pet preference. But they really are amazing creatures. Some people treat them like a super pet.

Cats have their own laundry or body soap solution, and can wash themselves in all areas except the one area Moms used to nag about—behind the ears…at the nape of the neck. Oh, and they can be picked up (with teeth!) by that nape of the neck, without ever flinching or griping or calling out in pain.

Cats don’t hassle or pounce or yipyipyip, relentlessly, when you enter a room. They have little interest in your command performance attention—the quality and quantity of which had better be delivered, according to their mortal foes, dogs, or you’ll get a face full of slobber, a front full of mud prints, or a fat slam on your ass to the ground cause the damned dog thinks he’s a lapdog when he is, in fact, a Rhodesian Wolfhound weighing in at over a 100 pounds.

Cats are so intuitive they know when you need them. That is, if you are weeping, depressed, lonely, or ill, they will first stare at you for a minute, likely picking up which vibe it is they need to address, and then will come close. This is not hyperbole or conjecture on my part.

Numerous studies have been done to indicate that pets in general but especially cats have been introduced into high-stress people’s homes and hospital wards—and the illnesses decreased, the stress levels reduced, and the feeling of well-being returned to degrees of something around 15% improvement.

I mentioned that cats stare. Yeah, this is one I still am trying to figure out. They will position themselves in statuesque stillness, focus on one spot, thing, or you (shudder), and with unblinking, undeterred pose will penetrate whatever (or whomever) it is they stare at. I have paid close attention to this particular behavior on many an occasion, and can only see not a bored soul just watching the air molecules move about but a profoundly knowing being…whose eyes, when you look deeply into them, reveal eras and ages of reincarnated mystique, reveal the origin of their many dimensioned essences.

I may be interpreting this because I know the cats?history. Or know what others know thus far. Cats were a revered animal in Egypt. They were found buried in the tombs and sarcophagi of the royalty. They were reportedly so esteemed that a person was caught harming a cat that person was executed. (Wish we had held onto this one archaic law, especially when I see how cats are skinned alive and sold I markets for food in some countries, or how cats are tortured by cults or kids with nothing better to do and no more brain cells than to set a now defenseless domesticated creature on fire. Makes me want to puke, actually.)

And back to the physical wonderment of cats…that whole hairball thing, while at first may be disgusting or may seem pitiful (I always go into apoplectic sympathy mode as the cat looks at me to shut me the hell up so she can hack spew), is really fascinating (and makes sense). The cat is licking her hair every day and night, many times. She is of course collecting the fallout. In her gut. She then, on scheduled intervals of time, hunkers, hacks, and hawks until the perfectly bundled thing is expelled. And then she begins the cycle all over again.

Cats have (students and professors at Cornell studied) 100 different vocalizations. My favorite is the rrow-rrow-rrow one as if my cuddly baby is chirping with giddy delight. (It is happy, it is friendly, and it is a greeting. It is also an expectation—of goodies.)

I am really not all that intellectual about cats, though I do acknowledge a deep respect for and kind of metaphysical fascination with cats. So I am always learning something new, coming to understand their biological imperatives—that they wash immediately after eating (or after you eat, even) so they don’t (their cells recall this from jungle days eons back) appear as food or prey.

Duh. I didn’t think of that. They scratch and claw stuff not only to sharpen their claws. They do so to leave scent for those competitors (in our case, the raccoons) that might even think about approaching for a nice warm bed, lots of healthy food, much smooshy affection, and the occasional stare-fest Which still kinda creeps me out.

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