Dennis didn't want to go out to dinner for his birthday, so it was an even more leisurely meal than most. Not that I was keeping an eye on the clock, mind you. I know this is true because Mister Kitty had not one, but two full post-dinner snuggles on the lap of his hoomin--a.k.a. the Birthday Boy.
Dennis looked down at the self-satisfied-looking creature shedding contentedly on his sweatpants and wondered aloud whether the ritual was merely another roundabout way of getting at more food. (Five-plus years on, the stray who appeared in our front yard still hasn't figured out that his next meal is more or less a given.) Presumably, over centuries, some cats have seen the benefit in turning from a feral hunter existence to living by cultivating certain understandings with two-leggers.
I mused aloud that perhaps the human half of such "understandings" might be a bit more self-serving than we'd like to admit. In an urban lifestyle where catching a mouse is an extremely rare diversion, rather than quotidian duty, cats perhaps inadvertently cater to a human pattern best left centuries behind. "Cats are courtiers," I declared.
"But what about dogs?" countered Dennis. "No," I decided after a few moments' thought. "Cats are aristocrats. The third or fourth sons of the family who have to make their fortune elsewhere. As poets, scholars, soldiers--courtiers. You know, to the manner born. Because we Lords and Ladies of the Manor have to surround ourselves with fellow aristocrats." Just as we cultivate the illusion of felines sharing "hoomin" norms via LOLcaptions, cartoons and what-not.
Kind of sad to find such tendencies thriving in a country that pitched monarchy overboard two centuries and change ago. Tabby cat hair on navy blue sweatpants aside, I suppose it's a harmless enough "legacy" of Western history. As long as it stays with the four-legged, of course.
