Week Twenty-five: Sunday 18 – Saturday 24 March
I’m very fond of dogs; I’d happily have one in my life. Although I find it sad that so many dogs spend so much time inside, so I’m more inclined to wait until I have the opportunity to offer a dog a life outdoors before I find that ever obedient, ever loyal friend.
Cats on the other hand; I’d open my doors to a cat at anytime and in any place. I love cats: you never ‘own’ a cat, you merely facilitate one; if you do it well, in return you get all the subtle pleasures that can be shared between a human and an animal. Cats have no equal.
I get a bit despairing at the ‘cat v dog’ brigade; the assumption that you have to like/prefer one over the other, and that if you do then you automatically dislike the other. Like I say, I’m very fond of dogs; but I love cats.
There have always been cats in my life; although my first proper interaction with an animal was with a Border collie called Lucky who taught me how to walk downstairs when I was two. After Lucky got increasingly unlucky with the cars he used to chase, he had to join the place in the sky for country dogs who can’t settle in urban environments.
He was replaced with a cat called Duffle; all black, he came to us as a kitten and used to climb up the duffle coats and sleep in the hood to escape the attentions of a dozen or more adoring humans.
Duffle was an amazing creature: all cats are. And from Duffle came a line of cats that increasingly became a massive part of my life: Tuppence, Argyll; Star; Emmit. I was fourteen or so when Emmit joined the fray; she was the first cat I developed a very personal bond with. As a result I began to read about cats; not so much the history of the species, although that was interesting, but about the psychology of the species.
My parents moved from Edinburgh when I was 21; they took Emmit with them and I was ‘catless’ until my early thirties when first Marley, then Soxi, shared my life. I’m without a cat these days; life is too itinerant to build that special bond right now.
There is an awful lot of material, fact and fiction, written by some of the most creative and inspiring minds of recent times, out there about cats and how they tick. It doesn’t bother me when people say they prefer dogs over cats; it does bother me when people say they don’t like cats.
To not like a cat is to either not understand a cat, or be subconsciously jealous of its intelligence, grace and beauty, coupled with cunning, guile and independence. For anyone in any doubt about why cats have to be at least admired and respected, if not loved and adored, read ‘The Cat That Walked By Himself’ by Rudyard Kipling. It is a masterpiece in many ways, none least in the way it explains so much about cats.
By far and away the best non-fiction book I’ve read about cats is, ‘The Cat in Your Life’ by Karen Anderson. It is a fantastic, easy to read and digest, account of cat psychology and human/feline relations.
Basically, to enjoy the wonders of a proper relationship and friendship with a cat, you have to begin, and end, with respect. It is all about respect. A cat chooses to become your friend; that won’t happen until they feel they are respected and can respect you. Once a cat chooses you as a friend you’re a friend for life, so the decision is not made lightly. Cats have very sensitive, gentle emotions; they are easily offended and discouraged when it comes to relationships; that’s why they act so aloof about it all. It’s a protection; just like humans protect their feelings.
Once the decision to choose you as a friend is made, if it gets made, you’re in heaven; it is a unique and sublimely rewarding experience. But you only ever facilitate them; facilitate that friendship. As Kipling says, ‘ … when the moon gets up and night comes, I am the cat that walks by myself, and all places are alike to me.’
Anderson hits the mark when she states, ‘Cats actually do crave the deep, committed, I’m-in-this-for-the-long-haul kind of love that a human companion can offer. They only appear to have a take-it-or-leave-it attitude. Love your cat in a language they can understand, and they will feel safe enough to love you back; once you enter into an intimate relationship with a cat it’s like signing a pact. You will have won their heart, and they will respect you profoundly – so you have responsibilities and obligations to live up to.’ She should have added, 'and yet the cat in your life will always be independent and free.'
Instinctively, and without knowing, I have passed on my obvious respect, admiration and love for cats to my daughter. From an early age she has been bending at the knee with me, in street or garden, stretching out her arm and hand and rubbing her thumb and forefinger in unison with me, and chanting the ‘puss, puss – puss, puss’ mantra, that pleads with the cat to rub against your fingers and let you stroke them, in tune with me. With had a bit of success too; several cats have rubbed up against us both and let us both stroke and tickle them.
She is too young yet to learn about the complexities that make up a cats character and personality. However, she already knows about being patient and gentle with a cat at all times, and how to kiss them by ‘looking them in the eye and blinking eyelids at them.’
She has a real fondness and innate love for cats already – just over three years-old. I love it: partly because I love cats and know we will enjoy cats together as she gets older; partly because I know what special delights in she in for if she continues to develop and hone her already obvious admiration and respect for cats.
Her first full-on, all by myself, ‘cat experience’ occurred the other week, while I was at a football ground watching Hibernian FC win a trophy in some style.
My sister’s cat, a big, proud, handsome striped Tom, who spends most of his time inhabiting and exploring the countryside, although he frequently appears in the house for love, affection and food. He wandered into the kitchen, sniffed around all those in the room and then jumped up onto my daughter’s lap and nestled in.
My daughter was in awe and ecstasy: she said nothing; her face said it all. Her eyes and body language blared out, ‘Look at me, look at me; there’s a cat on my lap.’
Despite being at Hampden to see the Hibs captain, Rob Jones, lift the League Cup after demolishing Kilmarnock 5-1, when I heard the story of my daughter’s first cat experience, and saw the photos, I wished I’d been there instead.
Cats on the other hand; I’d open my doors to a cat at anytime and in any place. I love cats: you never ‘own’ a cat, you merely facilitate one; if you do it well, in return you get all the subtle pleasures that can be shared between a human and an animal. Cats have no equal.
I get a bit despairing at the ‘cat v dog’ brigade; the assumption that you have to like/prefer one over the other, and that if you do then you automatically dislike the other. Like I say, I’m very fond of dogs; but I love cats.
There have always been cats in my life; although my first proper interaction with an animal was with a Border collie called Lucky who taught me how to walk downstairs when I was two. After Lucky got increasingly unlucky with the cars he used to chase, he had to join the place in the sky for country dogs who can’t settle in urban environments.
He was replaced with a cat called Duffle; all black, he came to us as a kitten and used to climb up the duffle coats and sleep in the hood to escape the attentions of a dozen or more adoring humans.
Duffle was an amazing creature: all cats are. And from Duffle came a line of cats that increasingly became a massive part of my life: Tuppence, Argyll; Star; Emmit. I was fourteen or so when Emmit joined the fray; she was the first cat I developed a very personal bond with. As a result I began to read about cats; not so much the history of the species, although that was interesting, but about the psychology of the species.
My parents moved from Edinburgh when I was 21; they took Emmit with them and I was ‘catless’ until my early thirties when first Marley, then Soxi, shared my life. I’m without a cat these days; life is too itinerant to build that special bond right now.
There is an awful lot of material, fact and fiction, written by some of the most creative and inspiring minds of recent times, out there about cats and how they tick. It doesn’t bother me when people say they prefer dogs over cats; it does bother me when people say they don’t like cats.
To not like a cat is to either not understand a cat, or be subconsciously jealous of its intelligence, grace and beauty, coupled with cunning, guile and independence. For anyone in any doubt about why cats have to be at least admired and respected, if not loved and adored, read ‘The Cat That Walked By Himself’ by Rudyard Kipling. It is a masterpiece in many ways, none least in the way it explains so much about cats.
By far and away the best non-fiction book I’ve read about cats is, ‘The Cat in Your Life’ by Karen Anderson. It is a fantastic, easy to read and digest, account of cat psychology and human/feline relations.
Basically, to enjoy the wonders of a proper relationship and friendship with a cat, you have to begin, and end, with respect. It is all about respect. A cat chooses to become your friend; that won’t happen until they feel they are respected and can respect you. Once a cat chooses you as a friend you’re a friend for life, so the decision is not made lightly. Cats have very sensitive, gentle emotions; they are easily offended and discouraged when it comes to relationships; that’s why they act so aloof about it all. It’s a protection; just like humans protect their feelings.
Once the decision to choose you as a friend is made, if it gets made, you’re in heaven; it is a unique and sublimely rewarding experience. But you only ever facilitate them; facilitate that friendship. As Kipling says, ‘ … when the moon gets up and night comes, I am the cat that walks by myself, and all places are alike to me.’
Anderson hits the mark when she states, ‘Cats actually do crave the deep, committed, I’m-in-this-for-the-long-haul kind of love that a human companion can offer. They only appear to have a take-it-or-leave-it attitude. Love your cat in a language they can understand, and they will feel safe enough to love you back; once you enter into an intimate relationship with a cat it’s like signing a pact. You will have won their heart, and they will respect you profoundly – so you have responsibilities and obligations to live up to.’ She should have added, 'and yet the cat in your life will always be independent and free.'
Instinctively, and without knowing, I have passed on my obvious respect, admiration and love for cats to my daughter. From an early age she has been bending at the knee with me, in street or garden, stretching out her arm and hand and rubbing her thumb and forefinger in unison with me, and chanting the ‘puss, puss – puss, puss’ mantra, that pleads with the cat to rub against your fingers and let you stroke them, in tune with me. With had a bit of success too; several cats have rubbed up against us both and let us both stroke and tickle them.
She is too young yet to learn about the complexities that make up a cats character and personality. However, she already knows about being patient and gentle with a cat at all times, and how to kiss them by ‘looking them in the eye and blinking eyelids at them.’
She has a real fondness and innate love for cats already – just over three years-old. I love it: partly because I love cats and know we will enjoy cats together as she gets older; partly because I know what special delights in she in for if she continues to develop and hone her already obvious admiration and respect for cats.
Her first full-on, all by myself, ‘cat experience’ occurred the other week, while I was at a football ground watching Hibernian FC win a trophy in some style.
My sister’s cat, a big, proud, handsome striped Tom, who spends most of his time inhabiting and exploring the countryside, although he frequently appears in the house for love, affection and food. He wandered into the kitchen, sniffed around all those in the room and then jumped up onto my daughter’s lap and nestled in.
My daughter was in awe and ecstasy: she said nothing; her face said it all. Her eyes and body language blared out, ‘Look at me, look at me; there’s a cat on my lap.’
Despite being at Hampden to see the Hibs captain, Rob Jones, lift the League Cup after demolishing Kilmarnock 5-1, when I heard the story of my daughter’s first cat experience, and saw the photos, I wished I’d been there instead.
Okay, maybe two places at once; I would really loved to have shared my daughter's first cat experience with her.
5 comments:
That's a lovely tale, David. And the picture of her First Cat Experience is priceless.
I hope it's only the first of many fine feline encounters.
Liam
x
How do you spell a purr? Prweeephr? Ffphurruph? Ppphreeph?
Linguistic skills not up to that; but, could I spell a purr I would leave one as a comment. On behalf of all cats, and your (as always) beautifully eloquent posting.
I love them to bits, as you know; our house would not be the same without the three black characters who bob around our ankles. How can people not like them?
Another question though - why do cats and dogs dislike each other so much?
To anyone who doubts the personality of cats and think of them as a generic 'animal', you only have to look at our 3 to realise they have totally different personality/character traits. I love Tink so much that we do actually have conversations; that trust thing - you are so very right.
Look forward to meeting the next cat that finds you and your lovely family.
x
It is indeed a lovely tale. I love watching Jack around dogs and cats (although he also likes the pigeons - he got upset yesterday that the food he was trying to give the pigeons was stolen by a seagull - the harsh realities of life).
I am suspicious of anyone who says they don't like cats (apart from my friend who has a severe allergic reaction to them).
Oh, and maybe the cats in my life at the moment are quite small, but that cat looks massive!! Beautiful photo though.
xx
Yo Mr D,
I had totally forgotten about cat kisses (cool stare, slow blink) brilliant!
Like you, I am, a cat AND a dog person; there is room enough in my heart for both.
When I was a child I thought they were male and female version of the same animal, dogs were boys and cats were girls. Then I met a poodle. Nuff said.
Great story, by the way, suzannah would be proud of your non-fiction styling. Mixing quotes, personal stories from the present and the past in one seamless tale.
That's an excellent picture :) You can't help but smile.
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