My great example Leonardo da Vinci said: “The smallest feline is a masterpiece.”
I know it is silly; no, I know that most people find it silly, especially the ones who know me: today we have let one of our grandkittens – Roosje – go to her new personnel and leave the house where she was born and raised until now. She was a very sweet companion to us, her mother Phoenix, and of course to her little sisters and brothers.
Call me sentimental, but it cuts deep, this parting. I am very attached to our cats and I am still mourning the unfortunate event of our beloved SpaceCat Jucefa leaving us in February of this year. We have no idea where he went, if he is still alive or why he never came back. He has a chip, so in case he is ever found and scanned, he might be returned again. I hope.
But today’s goodbye was voluntary and necessary, because having six cats around might just be slightly overdoing it. In a week or two, number two – Jetje – will be going to a new place too and we’ll have four cats in total sharing our territory: mother Phoenix and her three red kittens Dweezil, DjuDju and Silky.
For the last twelve weeks we have been finding cats all over the house and I must say it comforts me more than anything else. Somehow, a sleeping cat that wakes up when one enters its room, purring and stretching itself into an arch of fur, turning towards one to receive the mandatory stroking, has something very consoling and comforting.
Cats serve well as reflectors of complex human feelings and sentiments. For me, they do this better than dogs, which I find stupid, smelly and shit-proliferating animals. Cats are self-providing survivors with their own will, not bothered by futile and profane concerns like pleasing the pack-leader. They are fully independent if necessary and will just seek other accommodation if you don’t treat them well enough. They are like women, come to think of it. Hence, maybe, the term Pussy. Naturally, my resident felines shamelessly regard me as their provider. My kids do this too.
The indisputable air of intelligence and superior calmness I see in my cat’s stoic glances, is a rare esoteric vice I allow myself to indulge in. Not that my vices are rare, but having something esoteric clouding my mind is. As far as I like to think, considering my cats to be able and equal companions is my only real defiance of common sense and scientific reality. Be that as it may, I gladly allow myself this frivolity, because it serves such a valuable purpose. The cats make me feel soft and mushy inside, just like my kids used to do when they were still babies. And cats have an important advantage over kids: they don’t grow up to become tedious and difficult individuals – although ever very sweet of course – who expand their minds to become the same stubborn adults as oneself.
My cats are constant, reliable and very loving furry rocks in this turbulent life of mine. One can never have enough of them in the house.
