The Catness Of CatsMy life has been devoid of cats for a while. Except for the fart kitties - feral cats that a friend feeds with expensive cat food. They prowl about and glare angrily, refusing to let any humans near.
Recently, I was invited to meet A.'s cats, L. and E., named after a literary character and an author, respectively. E. came to me right away. I was immediately enveloped in catness, which is very unlike humanness or dogness. Life slowed right down, and I could distinguish each hair of her thick and luxuriant fur. I stroked her for as long as she wanted, then she wandered away, and observed me from a distance.
L. was more reticent. She was curious, but not easy like E. She came by a couple of times and brushed my toes (hanging out in the passageway) with her tail. I waited for hours and ignored her. Finally she gave in and came and curled up in my chair, agreeing finally to be petted and made much of, by the new human.
This was apparently a sign of great favour, since others had been courting L. for months without positive outcome.
Cats have an infinite capacity for living in the moment. They know when enough is enough. And are content to wash themselves, lie in the sun, or just stare. And while they are happy to lie on your chest and let off waves of catness, you can feel that way too.