Catnapped, by John Ostrander
I love dogs. Most of my life, I’ve had at least one dog and often times two. Some have been wonderful, smart creatures and some were just thick as a brick. All were good companions and I have specific stories relating to each and they are bright in my memory.
All that said, dogs are a lot of work. It’s not simply the feeding – you have to walk them, no matter the weather, no matter whether they want to go out in that weather. They should be played with and exercised and they live for your attention.
I’m finding that, as I grow older, that I’m becoming more of a cat person. No, not like “Curse of the Cat-People” cat person. After our last French bulldog, Mojo, passed away, I’ve declined to get another dog. Maybe I need more exercise myself but I just wasn’t into walking a dog that much anymore. It was becoming work and that’s not fair to any dog.
So we now have two cats instead – Windermere, aka Windy, and Micah the Wonder Kitten. Very different in temperament and Micah has a story that I should tell you about some time; he really shouldn’t be alive. They suit me right now. They can be fun, affectionate, a little crazy, but there are also times when they go off and sleep somewhere and don’t seem to care what I’m doing.
Mind you, they also prompt me to do some of the most useless things that I do with my life. There are times when I have caught myself trying to explain the rules of the house to our two felines. It assumes that a) they know English, or b) they know what a rule is, or c) that they would care. I have patiently explained to them why they are not allowed up on the kitchen counters or why they should not dash right under my feet when I’m walking down the stairs. I’ve done this many times. They seem to be paying attention but I’ve discovered it’s only in hopes that I’m going to feed them. I’ve explained to them when mealtimes are but they don’t care about that, either. Like small human children, they have no concept of “later”. It is either “now” or “never.” Very binary.
Cats may understand “Don’t get up on counters” if they get wet when they do it. This can be done by the sink sprayer or with squirt guns that we have sequestered around the house. Windermere hates it although it doesn’t prevent her from trying to get up on the counters if she thinks I’m not paying attention. It simply means a sharp word will make her run for the hills. Micah, on the other hand, can get pretty wet and doesn’t seem to care. He just gives me a look as if I’m the one who is demented and appears to be asking, “And you did that – why?”
Artists sometimes fall in this general category as well. It’s happened with Tim Truman, Tom Mandrake, and Jan Duursema – my three biggest collaborators over the years. I’ll explain what I want and they’ll pretend to listen and then go off and draw whatever the hell they want. Maybe they’rethinking of food, too. I haven’t tried the water conditioning method with any of them because any of the three could pound the poo out of me.
The lovely Mary Mitchell is also an artist – a fabulous one, in fact – but she’s omitted from this list because I have to sleep some time and I’m not thatstupid. However, I have strayed from the topic.
The only thing that is more useless than explaining things with cats is arguing with them. This sometimes follows in the wake of failed explanations. You confront them and they give you back attitude (a cat is nothing if not attitude) and I hear myself saying, “I told you not to do that! Well, didn’t I?Didn’t I? Are you listening to me?! Oh, you’re asking for a time out!”
On the one level, my cats are very basic. They like their food, their treats, they like to be petted, they like to play, and they hate each other. On the other hand, they jump into toilets, upend the garbage (Micah just did that as I write this) and when you’re petting them and being nice they will sometimes turn and nip and/or claw you for no damn good reason whatsoever. They’ll act like they want to play and so you start playing and then they’ll just stop and watch you as you try to get them to play. You wind up looking pretty stupid and maybe that’s their idea of amusement. I just don’t know. Maybe that’s their enigma, their aura of mystery – you just never know with cats, do you?
All of which makes me feel that these are cat times. Dog times are direct and simple. You know what is what. Loyalty is valued and rewarded. Answers are straightforward. Love is simple, given without question. Do a trick, get a treat. Dog values. When I was ten, those were dog times. The Sixties were dog times.
Cat times are more complex. Their attitude appears to be – I may love you but don’t look at me right now. One’s first loyalties are to oneself. If I had an opposable thumb and could manage a can opener – eh, I might not really need you. I am the center of the universe; what do you bring to the equation that I don’t already have myself? I’ll pretend to listen to you in the hopes of getting what I want. You did not see me land ungracefully; it never happened. Who are you going to believe – your eyes or me? Piss me off and I’ll poop in your shoes – guaranteed. Why aren’t you paying attention to me; what could possibly be more important than me? I say that you will pet me now. Here’s just a touch of claw to remind you who the cat is around here.
Like I said – these are cat times. Not better than dog times or worse. Just the times as they are.
Despite that, we don’t seem to have many animated stories about cats. We have some great ones about dogs – Lady and the Tramp and so on. Cats? They get the Garfield movies. Clear animal abuse – making us watch that. Even rats got Ratatouille. The closest thing we’ve had to a good movie that’s about a cat who really acts like a cat is Puss’n Boots in the last two Schrek movies – where he almost stole the show both times. The best cat (who acts more or less like a cat) in comics right now is Mooch in the strip titled, strangely, Mutts. There’s been more than a few times when I’ve laughed out loud at something he’s done and then shown it to Mary because it’s so close to what one of our cats does or has done.
The best cat stories in print, however, have to be in the Japanese manga collections of What’s Michael? Michael is more a type of cat than a specific character and, in that, the series captures all the contradictory glory that belongs to cats. As often as not, the stories are about the humans who live with the cat and their relationship and what the cat brings out of them. Highly recommended.
Mary and I also still get the Kliban Cat calendar every year. Surrealistic rather than realistic and yet they seem to capture so much of the essence of what cats are. As Kim used to mutter, “Mysterious little critters, ain’t they?”
Now you’ll have to excuse me. If these are indeed cat times, they are shedding all over me and I need to find a sticky roller brush.
That’s John in the photo above, bragging nostalgically. His Star Wars collaborator, Jan Duursema, is sitting next to him, thinking about what happens when a LightSaber’s batteries die.
What's Michael is essential cat lore, funniest comic from Japan I've ever read. Up there with The Cowboy Wally Show and Dork on the lolometer.
Dan Greenberg, author of (among other things) HOW TO BE A JEWISH MOTHER, said that cats exist to give writers an excuse not to write. It's always much more important to see what the cats are doing.
Here's a great cat film-"The Cat Returns". Same cat also originally appears in "Whispers of the Heart" another excellent film.
John,I grew up in a pet-less house. With my folks working full days, and being up and out of the house in the wee hours of the morning they never sought to get any pets. As an only child, I longed for a companion, but never "craved" a cat or dog. My friends had pets, and they always seemed to just be a bother rather than best friend.Then I met my now Fiance. On what would be our second date, her cat had 5 kittens. Soon after their birth, I was rooming with her, and we kept 1 kitten. She gave him to me. I named him Lynxo (when I first saw him as a kitten, I said "hey, he's blind!", not knowing that all kittens are born that way…)((Lynxo for those not-in-the-know, was the blind Thundercat)). Over the next 5 years, I became a cat person. Lynxo eventually succomed to renal failure, and I was forced to put him down. Never the less… I remain a cat person now, steadfast.Your comment about artists being cats I should note, also made me laugh out loud. ("I'll do pages when I said I'll do pages!") I should note my penciler also can pound me into poo. Funny how that is.
"The Cat from Outer Space" – sappy Disnay fare from the late 1970s, but fun.
Bill Cosby once explained the essential difference between a dog and a cat – dogs have a sense of shame.You catch the dog dragging the pot roast you left on the counter when you had to go answer the door away, and as soon as he sees you, he flops down, cringes, rolls over to show you his belly and cries out "Kill me now, master, I am unworthy of your trust." The cat u on the counter eating the pot roast etc. cocks her head to look at you and estimate how many more bites she can take before she has to run.
I have a similar version. If you yell at a dog, it's universal answer is "But i love you!" whereas if you yell at a cat — and the cat deigns to notice you're yelling at it — it's universal answer is, "But you love me."
I think you missed "The Aristocats." Certainly not the greatest of Disney animated works, but it's not without merit. And any discussion of Cats in Literature would not be complete without mentioning "The Cat in the Hat," by Dr. Seuss. It's one of the most influential books of the 20th Century, changing forever how children's books are written and published and how reading is taught! I'm proud to have an annotated version on my bookshelf. It's not the most realistic portrayal of cats. But it does capture that feline sense of logic and respect for the rules quite well.
Russ, I was talking about GREAT films with cats and, whatever else it is, "The Aristocrats" is not that. Nor is "Gay Puree". Certainly not on the level of the films cited. There's lots of great cats in Lit but, again, I was only dealing with the movies. You're not suggesting the FILM version of "Cat In the Hat" is something to purr about?
I would pick Aristocats over the Garfield movies any day. And "The Cat in the Hat" TV Special was much better than say, "It's Flashbeagle, Charlie Brown!" Oh, you mean the theatrical release with Mike Meyers! How could that offal have slipped my mind! Painlessly. Oof! What a stink-burger! That Cat movie was a DOG! As bad or worse than the Garfield kitty litter films.
"Shinbone Alley" with Eddie Bracken as Archie and Carol Channing as Mehitabel and John Carradine voicing an old-fashioned ham actor cat.
Well, I saw The Aristocrats, but there was a dog in that, not a cat.
After nearly 30 years of never having a pet, I have been adopted by my fiancee's cat, Felix (the name he had when she adopted him), and I find I too am a cat person. The cranky, contrary nature, the love when they feel like it, it's just fun. There's a wonderful picture book called Magic Thinks Big that truly captures the essence of being a cat, I think. It's easily available on Amazon or at Borders, and is well worth a high place in the annals of cat literature.
There are 2 statements that I think sum up cats fairly well:1) Thousands of years ago, cats were worshipped as gods by the Egyptians. They have never forgotten this.2) Dogs have owners, cats have staff.I actually used to be fairly anti-cat until I started dating the woman who is now my wife, Beth. Her cat Benny is why I started to love cats. (Note, at the time, Benny was approximately 15 pounds. He's almost 18 now.)At the time we were dating, we were living about 2 1/2 hours apart. I was also working a job Sunday to Thursday, generally getting down about 2:30 or 3am. Most Friday mornings I would drive down after work, getting there about the time Beth would be waking up to get ready for work. One night/morning, I got done somewhat early, and got to Beth's place about an hour earlier than I normally did. Benny was in his usually spot next to Beth. As I crawl into bed and are just starting to get comfortable, Benny puts all four paws against Beth's arm, places his back against my arm, and tries to push my out of bed and away from "his" woman. I just looked at him and said "Ain't gonna happen, cat."But that's about the time I really started to like cats. Now, I'm owned by one, have nominal ownership of another, and am liked by two more.