Tuesday, January 17, 2012


Ah, dear sweet Mittens:

She's such a good cat, even after the incident which partially severed her head and permanently smeared her countenance.  She's an orange tabby, as you can well see, and, wait... that's not our cat, these are.


The talkative one in front there is Bailey, aka 'Crack-head Cat,' and the one in back is Paige, the quiet, evil one who recently tried to pull a cookie off the counter in the kitchen as Crackhead goaded her on.  I don't know who the hell Mittens is.

Truth be told, over the years the boys have drawn cats regularly, beginning as stick animals with whiskers and now with these, again, photo-realistic renderings.  I wonder why we have seen so many cat drawings?  I suppose it's because there has always been a cat in the house, and, when our first cat, Scout, died, we got the family kittens.  It's also fairly easy to render a reasonably recognizable feline, even I can draw a cat.  I think it's more than that though.

There's something about sharing your home with another animal that makes our being a bit  more understandable.  For instance, sometimes when I am up late at night and TV is so mind-numbingly inane, I find myself watching the kittens fight, wrestle and in general torment each other and then snuggle up together on top of the heater vent.  It is very easy to make the jump and see the same behavior from my little mammals.  I feel that this is very important; not only must we be aware of the emotional, human journey our children walk, we must also remember that they are just little beasties, baby primates.  This helps me when the fights break out and the tempers flare up and the competition reaches a crescendo of yelling and tears.

On top of the maddening array of emotions they must tame, the near cacophony of language they hear which must be deciphered, the social understandings to be sorted and all the other complex human stuff they face daily; they must also hear, and try to grapple with, the wild thing inside them.  I am very hesitant to try to weed that out of them, for they must know it, listen to it, feel their own blood racing through them, feel their cheeks redden, feel primitive fear and primal joy.  All these things must be understood and savored with our animal hearts, not our human heats.  It's difficult for me to explain it, it must be difficult for them to understand.  Personally, I like knowing I am an animal, I find it easier to forgive others and to forgive myself.

So, we have cats. 

From Marci's '...things you don't expect to hear from the backseat...'

"You are not the Prettiest Princess of Beautiful."

Actually, I am...

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