HAIRSHIRT
Helping You Get the Most Out of Your Misery
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HAIRSHIRT Helping You Get the Most Out of Your Misery |
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Tuesday, August 16, 2005Krazy Kat
My wife and I just got back from a trip to Seattle and spent our first night back home dealing with our cat, Sven.
Normally, our friend who lives upstairs from us stops in once a day, but this time he was on a cruise and was unwilling to cancel his plans so that he could feed our cat. How selfish. My wife solved the problem by buying one of those automatic cat feeders. So you just fill this thing to the brim with cat food and it drops into the dish. This is bad for over-eater cats trapped on the binge/purge cycle, but Sven seems to have adjusted well. We asked another friend of ours to stop in a couple of times just to make sure that Sven was okay, but for the larger part of a week, he was here by himself. Think of the mental strain that has to put on a cat. If a cat is an indoor cat, then the house or apartment is his entire world. He's not meeting with other cats. He's not going downtown to check out the new show at the Met. He's in this one apartment and that's it. It's him and his owners and the dogs and maybe occasional guests. Then, when his owners are gone for a week, he is the only one in his world. I've heard that there have been studies which found that cats have a completely different take on things than us. This report said that cats are basically like people on acid. They perceive things differently, they get fixated on objects and, I would assume, they listen to a lot of Pink Floyd. So, if this is the case, then you can see how completely freaky it would be to spend a week tripping your balls off and have absolutely nobody else existing in your world. You'd start to wonder if the people you normally live with were ever real or maybe just products of your own imagination. You'd maybe begin to doubt that you yourself exist and you'd stay up for days at a time in case you'd stop existing while you slept. Time would cease to have any meaning and you'd imagine that you'd been in this same apartment for ten thousand years, making you an immortal. You'd invent your own languages and then forget them. You'd spend Tuesday through Thursday looking in the mirror. If the phone rang, you'd have no idea what it meant and you'd hide in the closet for an hour, striking up a friendship with a pair of corduroys. Think what a relief it would be, then, when your owners finally do come home. It would free you from your nagging doubt that you're maybe just a dream that the couch was having. You'd cling to your owners as you cling to your sanity. You'd be simultaneously grateful and pissed. Maybe pissed enough to, say, take a dump in their luggage. You'd yell at them all night and crawl on their heads and show them the great job you did sharpening your claws during your stint in solitary by repeatedly piercing their skin. But it beats the shit out of trying to travel with a cat, which sucks to high heaven.
Comments:
lol. That's exactly how I would describe coming home from work everyday to a cat when I was cat sitting. priceless....
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