Yet Another Research Debacle Regarding Cats

There’s this doctor going around telling everyone that to cats, human beings are considered bigger cats. Puleeze. I wrote an article years ago called The Cat’s Meow that pretty much put the subject to rest. We are nothing more than minions created to do their bidding. They don’t consider us big cats at all. I asked my kitty Mr. Jack if he thought I was a big cat and now every time he sees me he laughs. It’s not easy getting a cat to laugh. It sounds like the combination of a lawnmower in sand and passing a kidney stone the size of New Jersey. It still doesn’t stop him from sitting in my cereal box, either.

I first came across this guy, an Anthrozoologist by the name of John Bradshaw (I am impressed by his title, even if it does sound made up), yesterday when I came across a magazine article written by Chelsea Karnash entitled “Research Claims Your Cat Thinks You’re Just Another (Big!) Cat.” Now, if the article is an Op-Ed all is forgiven, but if Dr. Bradshaw sanctioned it, we have issues. It seems he wrote a book – Cat Sense – in which he states that cats “tend to think of humans as big, lazy, overgrown fellow cats”. Jack says I am indeed big (he used the word ‘morbidly obese’ which I’m taking to mean ‘big’ – he’s too smart for his own good, I think) and lazy, but I am definitely NOT a fellow cat. He’s pointing to pictures of lions and tigers right now for some reason, then looking at me and laughing. Please make him stop.

Dr. Bradshaw obviously hasn’t gone into the mind and soul of a cat like I have. Among felines I am known as “Catmando.” I’m providing a link to the article I wrote of the same name. Some say it’s the most disturbing piece of writing they’ve ever experienced. I tend to agree. Let’s just say my reputation precedes me. If the good doctor has bothered to understand the cat language (catese), he would have no doubt heard of me. Obviously he hasn’t, so I won’t hold his 30 years of research against him, although as it turn out, was a total waste of time. He just doesn’t know squat about cats.

For instance, he states that cats were never bred for companionship. First of all, it implies someone forgot to put the ‘play-well-with-others’ gene in the cat. This is downright insulting. Cats consider themselves perfect beings who were created to lord over the entire world. The Egyptians had a rudimentary understanding of this, but now the only ones who truly grasp the truth of catkind’s superiority are considered outcasts in society. They are found in the ranks of those who own five or more cats. The ‘Cat Lady’ will tell you right away that she is their willing slave. Cat’s aren’t looking for companionship. They seek world domination.

Dr. Bradshaw’s lack of insight is no more evident than when he claims that “when a cat rubs against you with its tail straight in the air, it is checking to make sure you are not hostile.” Pure malarkey. Whenever a cat rubs against you, he is actually drooling on your leg and marking you as his chattel. Do you suppose your kitty is making sure a table leg is not hostile when he rubs against it?  He’s just laying claim. As I write this Jack has gotten in front of the monitor and is licking his butthole with one leg stuck up in the air, and I have to distort myself just to see.  He’s reminding me that whenever his tail is straight up, he’s telling me to do what he’s doing right now. There are some places I won’t go, and that’s one of them. Now, maybe if I could reach my own…

I’m sure Dr. Bradshaw’s book “Cat Sense” will be a smash hit – anything cat related is big these days – but don’t be fooled by all the technobabble. If there is a cat living in your home, he is your Master, and he allows you to share his space only so you can serve him. Don’t tell your kitty that you’re just a bigger version of him. When he stops laughing he’ll pretend your coffee cup is a litter box when you’re not looking. You won’t know it until you get to the bottom, because cat poop doesn’t float. Now be a good slave and bring out the catnip. It’s time to make the Boss happy.

On the Whiskers of a Great Discovery

When I was a kid I wanted to be able to talk to the animals. Seriously. My goal in life was to be Doctor Doolittle. Can you imagine how awesome it would be to understand critter-speak? I’d be able to find out if Polly really does want that cracker. I’d know what the fuss is all about with that tree full of crows in the backyard. I’d finally get my dog to understand that my socks are not nesting material. Come to think about it, I’d probably be the most sought after person on the planet – except for the Pope. Everyone wants a selfie with him. I could charge for my translating ability and end up richer than Forrest Gump. Yes, I’d say I had some pretty wise aspirations as a child.

Well, it’s taken me over 55 years, but I have finally managed to reach the first step in my lifelong quest of being the Animal Whisperer. I discovered that cats have a written language! Ok, so I still can’t tell the difference between a “Meow” and a “Rrrowl,” but give me some time. I’m sure I’ll be hissing and purring with the best of them soon. For now, though, I’m up to my beard deciphering the things my kitty Mr. Jack has inscribed around the house. If you own a cat you’ve witnessed them scratching everything from the chandelier to the carpet. They’re not sharpening their claws, my friend. They’re actually writing! You see them outside shredding trees and telephone poles and have always thought they were just relieving pent up energy. On the contrary, they are communicating with each other through what I believe are cat-scratch bulletin boards!  Once I become fluent in their language, I’ll be able to ask them such important questions as Why ignore us when we call them, How can they sleep so much and can they teach us to do it, too, and What’s with leaving mice on the doorstep? Personally, I think it’s like a Mafia warning: Give me tuna or this could be you.

I’ve been busy translating table legs, throw rugs, doors and the dog’s nose to name just a few. For instance, on the side of the dog’s food dish Jack wrote “CHOKE, YOU MISERABLE BEAST.”  On his favorite window ledge it says “THAT STUPID SQUIRREL BURIES ACORNS AROUND THE YARD THEN FORGETS WHERE HE PUTS THEM.” Just this morning I found a treasure trove of information on the back of the couch. I think he’s been keeping a journal. I’ll be sure to share his entries with you as I decipher them. For now, though, I have to be cautious. Jack is becoming suspicious, so I’ve only been able to translate when he’s napping. I’m not sure if he knows I’ve cracked the code of his language, but I have to assume he considers it private and wouldn’t be too happy if he knew I could read it. The last thing in the world I want to do is piss the cat off. He could reduce this house to toothpicks if he wanted.

I believe I’ve discovered one of his earliest writings this morning while cleaning the kitchen. On the floorboard Jack etched “I HAVE ONLY BEEN HERE A FEW MOMENTS BUT HAVE SEEN MONSTEROUS BIRDS ON THE TOP OF EVERY ROOM SPINNING THEIR WINGS SO VIOLENTLY IT CREATES A DRAFT. I AM SURE THEY WILL DEVOUR ME SO I’LL HIDE RIGHT HERE UNTIL THEY FLY AWAY.” I think Jack was talking about the ceiling fans. The day we brought him home he freaked out and bolted through the house. We finally found him the next day cowering behind the fridge. Now I know why.

I feel like the first man to have climbed Mt. Everest, except I’m not as cold. This has got to be one of the greatest scientific discoveries since the automatic drip coffee maker. Once I acquire enough data, I’ll submit it to whatever Grand Poobah council you send such stuff to. Maybe I could get a grant. Maybe I could contract it out to the government. Maybe I’ll be able to have lunch with Donald Trump and Bill Gates. Maybe I’ll finally be able to figure out what catnip actually does to cats. The possibilities are endless!