Some of life’s absurdities are beautiful. I woke up today to a kitten’s mewing. It must have entered my ground floor room through the balcony door. Far from expecting any such intrusion, I lit open my eyes- my mind still dizzy with sleep, my face buried in the pillow. It mewed again. That was when I gathered its full view from the corner of my sleep-laden eyes. I saw it sitting obediently on the floor, unmoving and precise in its disposition, and looking straight back at me with expectant eagerness.
Startled out of sleep under such uncommon circumstance, I almost felt trippy at some level. It felt pretty and moving too. We talked lovingly for a while, during which time she understood I was benefiting more out of her than she was out of me. It played around for sometime, hunched itself into ballerina postures, pondered at things, showcased a perfect set of teeth, and just as neatly, slipped cordially into the balcony.
As is their wont, cats don’t respond encouragingly to affection. When you include a cat’s quiet demeanor and pristine poise to such indifferent attitude, cats instantly become lovable, much like infants -an unavoidable affection, despite, or probably due to, the haughty-looking, self-centered countenance. I reckon it’s just innocence of a superior level.
True, cats don’t have as gigantic personalities as dogs. Dogs are smart: they stand tall, wag their energetic tails, fetch balls in the park, bark at strangers, pick random smells, force their snout into embarrassed crotches, and sniff at drugs, and even their own piss. The bottom line is that dogs are proactive, they believe in a master and find some strange contentment in having to run around. I suspect dogs are exactly the kind of pets companies have in mind when they come for recruitments at MBA campuses.
Dogs are intrusive. It barks happily after pulling you out of bed for the morning walk, barks in contentment when it squats to dump, after having carefully deliberated on the precise point of disposal. It barks in disappointment when you go to work, barks in joy when you return from work, and also sulks in the time in-between. Dogs bark because they simply have too much character to be just dogs. And that is where they cease to be pets, becoming a friend who catches thieves, smashes mice, scares oldies, barking at everyone and everything in the process. Dogs try to do too much and also bark about it.
Cats behave and misbehave like pets: child-like selfish and animal-like uncommunicative. Unlike dogs, they have no frenzied business to do, no harassing and no sulking. Cats don’t bother strangers, not even the owner beyond a point. Heck, you don’t ‘own’ a cat by picking it from somewhere or paying a dealer. As it were, cats have a good idea of who they are, and what they ought to do, and not do. I love cats for having the destiny to be beautiful, and for behaving like pets– well-composed and naturally easy-mannered, if not exactly well-mannered.