Sunday, November 02, 2008
About a year since I rode my little bike. The tires were flat, it was dusty. My tire pump was broke. I borrowed a pump, inflated the tires, dusted it off, oiled it up, carried it downstairs & set out for downtown Elmora at a good clip. Chilly & windy. About 1/3rd of the way I concluded it wasn't going to happen this afternoon, & I stopped, turned around, & rolled it back, riding only the last block. No matter how much walking you do, you aren't using what you use on bike. Other times I laid off the bike for long periods, I had the good sense to not just get back on it expecting to go on errands, which why I have it. I'd ride slowly, get off & walk if my legs felt stressed, take it up to the park around the corner. At a slow pace, riding my little bike isn't much more strenuous than walking. But it's different than walking.
***
Gina kept one of the four kittens she was care-taking. No name yet, it will in some way name itself. It is cute & rambunctious, climbed most of the way up my leg when I was popping tops on the cans - they learn that noise early. Plays with my shoelaces, bats crumpled paper around, stops & stares at the TV, & is upsetting the complacent routines of the other cats in the house, which is a good change for them. They hiss it away if they must. It's also an affectionate, purring critter, already drawn to warm laps. Unlike the previous kitten, now 2 1/2 years old, that is friendly & likes good, hard scritching but will not be held except on protest. I have to watch where I step, & be very careful when I enter & leave. The other cats pretend they're interested in what's outside, but given the brief opportunity to make a dash for it they never do. Three of them had been homeless.
There are cat people & there are cat people. The worst are the crazies with 30 or 100 cats running around, & eventually the neighbors complain about the stink, & the SPCA comes, & Hazmat has to detox the house or condemn it. Then there are the obsessives, they only need two or three cats, but might have more, & the psychological atmosphere is very thick with anthropomorphism. The sane relationship is to appreciate cats as cats - this means you acknowledge the lion & tiger in them for better & worse, treat them as roughly equal housemates but with rules. There have to be some rules. Of course, humans have rules, too. We all have to use our proper poop places. You let them live their lives as cats; they're complex, individual creatures in their feline ways. They don't know we're "humans." I'm pretty sure they know we're not cats. I move into their territory easily when Gina's away. I announce my arrival the same way every visit. I don't see myself as the substitute boss; I'm the necessary guest. I'm aware that two of her cats have forms of cat PTSD & were rescued. One is friendly but keeps to itself. Another is affectionate but is troubled by loud noises & unexpected movements, a cat that's been kicked around, so I don't stay in the kitchen when it eats, & if I'm moving toward it I'll say quietly, "Just passing by, Fred," & that seems to be all he wants, a little advance reassurance.
Wish I had something original to say about cats, I could write a cat book, they always sell.
"If a nation expects to be ignorant and free, in a state of civilization, it expects what never was and never will be." Thomas Jefferson
***
Gina kept one of the four kittens she was care-taking. No name yet, it will in some way name itself. It is cute & rambunctious, climbed most of the way up my leg when I was popping tops on the cans - they learn that noise early. Plays with my shoelaces, bats crumpled paper around, stops & stares at the TV, & is upsetting the complacent routines of the other cats in the house, which is a good change for them. They hiss it away if they must. It's also an affectionate, purring critter, already drawn to warm laps. Unlike the previous kitten, now 2 1/2 years old, that is friendly & likes good, hard scritching but will not be held except on protest. I have to watch where I step, & be very careful when I enter & leave. The other cats pretend they're interested in what's outside, but given the brief opportunity to make a dash for it they never do. Three of them had been homeless.
There are cat people & there are cat people. The worst are the crazies with 30 or 100 cats running around, & eventually the neighbors complain about the stink, & the SPCA comes, & Hazmat has to detox the house or condemn it. Then there are the obsessives, they only need two or three cats, but might have more, & the psychological atmosphere is very thick with anthropomorphism. The sane relationship is to appreciate cats as cats - this means you acknowledge the lion & tiger in them for better & worse, treat them as roughly equal housemates but with rules. There have to be some rules. Of course, humans have rules, too. We all have to use our proper poop places. You let them live their lives as cats; they're complex, individual creatures in their feline ways. They don't know we're "humans." I'm pretty sure they know we're not cats. I move into their territory easily when Gina's away. I announce my arrival the same way every visit. I don't see myself as the substitute boss; I'm the necessary guest. I'm aware that two of her cats have forms of cat PTSD & were rescued. One is friendly but keeps to itself. Another is affectionate but is troubled by loud noises & unexpected movements, a cat that's been kicked around, so I don't stay in the kitchen when it eats, & if I'm moving toward it I'll say quietly, "Just passing by, Fred," & that seems to be all he wants, a little advance reassurance.
Wish I had something original to say about cats, I could write a cat book, they always sell.
Labels: cats, Elizabeth NJ
