by Joe Garden
ATTACK THE WALL
Your person thinks she knows your every quirk and foible, but nothing will bewilder her like seeing you go nuts on a normal, innocent wall. First, pick a blank spot on the wall, somewhere eighteen to twenty-four inches from the floor. The more vacant, the better. While staring at the spot, make that low, throaty growl that precedes an attack until it’s assured you have her attention. Once you are satisfied that she’s stopped stirring her spaghetti sauce long enough to watch you, repeatedly throw yourself at the spot. Don’t stop until you need a break, at which point you should walk around in circles and emit some confused peeps beneath the spot. Then go back at it. When your person comes over to see what you are doing, put a crazed look on your face, freeze for half a second, and run away as fast as you can. If you do this enough, your person will think your house is haunted and that you are a very special cat for being able to sense it.
BARK
Purring, meowing, peeping, and even the occasional hiss are part of the everyday chorus that escapes your mouth in the course of a relationship. To really shake things up, work on making a noise like a dog makes. You won’t get it right on the first try, so practice until you get it right. Once you’ve got it down, wait until you’re alone with your person, and then, right when she’s leaning down to rub your ears, let loose with a bark. Only once, though. She’ll be telling her friends for years how you barked, and treat you like a queen in the hope that you’ll do it again.
HIDE ALL DAY
Sometimes you need a day to yourself in order to rekindle the fires of your relationship. If you’re really starting to feel like both of you need a little break, go find a warm new hiding spot and settle down for a long day of keeping out of sight. This serves a dual purpose. First, it gives you the time to take stock of your relationship. Second, it makes your owner miss you like crazy. As soon as she notices you aren’t around, the search will begin. In the closet, under the bed—she’ll turn the house upside down trying to find out where you’ve gone. When you don’t turn up in any of your usual places, the panic settles in. She’ll rack her brains, trying to recall all the times she opened the door that day, how long it was open, and whether it is possible that you could have snuck out in the eight seconds it was open. After she runs around the house, calling your name, trying to see if you’re outside, slowly and nonchalantly pad out to the living room. She’ll be so overjoyed to see you that it will be at least three days before she takes you for granted again.
The Vacuum Cleaner: A Vortex of Terror!
It sneaks into the home concealed in a big cardboard box, distracting you from the fiendishness within. While you excitedly gather toys to take into the new box, it slithers out and establishes a nest in the shadowy corners of the hall closet.
Where it waits…
This beast goes by many names, each more dreadful than the last. Kirby. Electrolux. Hoover. Dyson. But to comprehend the real nature of its evil, you must know its real name. It is the Suck Monster.
But where does it come from? What does it want?
Research indicates that it hails from a dying planet called Sears, and is desperate to establish a new homeland to carry on its wretched race.
Many years ago, the first scouts were sent to our world and quickly determined that our cozy environment was most suitable to sustain Suck Monster life. By the 1950s they began infiltrating many homes by passing themselves off as fat, hairless cats with long, skinny tails. It was then they developed a taste for our fur. Cats who encountered these creatures tried to warn us then. But we did not, would not, listen. We dismissed these brave souls, accusing them of being paranoid. What fools we were!
WARNING! NOT CAT!
Now, too late, we know the terrible truth. The Suck Monsters have no plans to peacefully coexist with catkind.
That thing lurking in the closet wants nothing more than to gobble you into its belly, where your meows will never be heard over its hideous whine. After complete ingestion, it will replicate you and take your place in the home. That is correct. Your person could one day be giving your food to a Suck Monster!
From now on, be very careful when batting a wineglass to the kitchen tile or scattering dry food all over the floor. This is how it finds you! When you hear a ravenous, high-pitched scream, you will know the Suck Monster has awakened from its closet slumber and is hunting…for you.
Devouring the detritus you’ve left behind, it learns all it can, and grows only hungrier. From there it moves to the living room, slurping hairballs from rugs and layers of fine shedding off couches. It may even dive under the couch, digesting the super-balls and twist-ties you’ve stashed there. It must know everything about you, so that when its transformation is complete, it can effortlessly pass as you.
How is this possible? How could the Suck Monster become you?
This alien abomination is a chameleon that assumes many guises. Over the years the Suck Monsters have gained knowledge of our world and adapted. The next wave of their invasion brought another breed of Suck Monster, now rising up on hind legs to imitate the authority of a human. A new dimension of terror was thus unleashed—a Suck Monster more nimble, more ravenous.
Cats encountering this form have so far managed to frustrate its nefarious plans by running away more frantically and jumping up on higher, more inaccessible perches.
DO NOT HEED ITS COMMANDS! STAY UP ON COUNTER!
But the Suck Monsters do not give up easily. In recent years they have taken a more appealing approach, appearing in the form of a hand that seems like it might give you a scratch or open a can of food.
WILL NOT FEED YOU! WILL EAT YOU!
These Suck Monsters have made gains, and a great cat-tastrophe is already under way. Some of our weaker brothers and sisters have become enslaved, allowing these horrors to freely feed on their coats.
Soon these victims will be replaced by Suck Monsters, hiding under layers of finely groomed fur they have harvested and stored in their bellies.
This menace must be stopped. It is time for all cats to come down from their safe spots and summon every ounce of courage that they have, for our very existence is at stake! If you encounter one of these fiends, creep up to it and give it a quick smack. Maybe—just maybe—these smacks will be enough to send it back to the devil planet from whence it came.
Already the next breed of Suck Monster has been created to mimic a big, round toy that does not require human assistance. It may be quiet and slow, and look like a good time, but don’t be fooled. It is no less dangerous, and no less hungry.
There isn’t much time. You must join the Suck Monster resistance before it is too late!
THE END???
Extraordinary Cats in History—Part III: Semper Feline
SIMON—ABLE SEACAT
Not many cats get the opportunity to sail the seven seas. Even fewer cats participate in naval battles. Only one, a cat named Simon, became a household name for serving with distinction in the British Navy.
Simon’s story begins in the port city of Hong Kong. Life on the waterfront was hard, and Simon was well acquainted with it by the time he was one year old, in 1948.
Everything changed when a sailor named George Hickinbottom met up with Simon one morning. George was a crew member aboard the British frigate HMS Amethyst, stationed in Hong Kong harbor.
After a wild time on the town, George had spent the night atop some cargo on a dock. Simon was strolling by and licked George’s face to make sure he was okay. George glanced at his watch and couldn’t believe what time it was! If Simon hadn’t woken him, George would have overslept and been late getting back to the ship.
George made a fateful decision regarding the cat that saved him from the brig. He defied naval regulations and smuggled Simon aboard the Amethyst.
No lazy sailor on a pleasure cruise, Simon began earning his keep immediately. George’s shipmates found Simon’s zeal for killing rats endearing, but it was the practice of leaving dead ones on their bunks that really tugged a
t their heartstrings. It also didn’t hurt that Simon occasionally slept in the captain’s hat.
Simon became something of a mascot to the crew, who thought that he brought them good luck. Unfortunately it didn’t last.
While traveling up the Yangtze River, the Amethyst came under fire from Chinese gun batteries. In the shelling, the captain was killed, and Simon wounded badly.
Despite being in dreadful shape, Simon managed to crawl from the wreckage up to the deck. He was taken to the medical bay, where four pieces of shrapnel were removed from his body. Simon was not expected to survive the night.
Again he defied the odds and before long returned to active duty. But the ship soon ran aground, and was once again overrun with rats. Simon took to clearing the decks with a renewed sense of purpose. He also visited the infirmary, lifting the spirits of wounded sailors by goofing around and purring while lying next to their heads.
Eventually the Amethyst escaped and made her way home. Upon his return, Simon was hailed as a hero by both the British and world press. He was presented with the Dickin Medal, a Blue Cross, and awarded the honorary rank of “Able Seacat.” Simon began to receive so much mail that an officer from the Amethyst was assigned to answer the thousands of letters.
But like all animals entering Great Britain, Simon was ordered to spend time in quarantine. He obeyed regulations and reported to a facility in Surrey.
While there, Simon became sick with a virus that developed from his war wounds. He passed away on November 28, 1949. The crew of the Amethyst and hundreds of others attended his funeral in East London. Simon’s gravestone reads:
Simon
SALLY—THE BIG FOURTH AT YALTA
In 1945, World War II was coming to a close. The Allied powers were nearing victory, but many unanswered questions remained about what would happen after Germany surrendered.
On February 4, 1945, the leaders of “The Big Three” Allied countries, Franklin D. Roosevelt from the United States, Winston Churchill of Great Britain, and Soviet premier Joseph Stalin met at Yalta on the Crimean Peninsula. Each was prepared to argue for a postwar arrangement that would specifically benefit his nation. What Roosevelt, Churchill, and Stalin didn’t know was that a cat would present the plan that would shape a continent for nearly half a century.
Sally was a Swiss cat with a flair for diplomacy. As a kitten, Sally fought and scrapped her way to the top, but not by biting and scratching in back alleys. She rose through the ranks by gaining consensus, being persuasive, and, if there was no other way to solve an impasse, making deals in back alleys.
When Sally heard what was happening at Yalta, she scurried to the Crimean Peninsula, despite being pregnant. Her goal was to ensure cats still controlled the world, no matter how the Big Three Silly Goofballs divided up the land.
The meeting got off to a bad start. Churchill was mad at Roosevelt. Roosevelt was mad at Stalin. Stalin was mad at everybody. Sally knew what needed to be done. She decided Stalin probably needed the most politicking and started with him.
It didn’t take long to figure out that Stalin preferred to be rubbed up against, rather than confronted directly. Sally gave his leg a good working over at every opportunity.
Roosevelt was in a wheelchair most of the time and vulnerable to the charms of a cat on his lap. The U.S. president puffed away on his cigarette holder and turned into a softie.
Churchill was the hardest sell of all. If Sally didn’t climb around his neck, he wouldn’t give her the time of day. It took a few hours of licking his bald head, but Sally eventually got Churchill’s ear.
In spite of Sally’s efforts, the Big Three couldn’t agree on anything, and worse yet, they hadn’t even considered how cats would figure into postwar reconstruction. All parties went grumbling back to their rooms for the night and fell asleep. Sally knew she had to go for broke. It was time for the boldest move in the history of diplomacy.
The Big Three entered the meeting room the next morning and were astonished at what they found. Sally had delivered a litter of kittens upon a giant map of Eastern Europe.
Churchill waddled over and grabbed a kitten off France as fast as he could. Stalin and Roosevelt arrived at Germany and reached simultaneously for the same kitten. Tension filled the air. Would this be what caused the talks to completely break down?
It just so happened that there were two kittens on Germany—one was sleeping on top of the other. Stalin snatched the one that lay most in eastern Germany, while Roosevelt scooped up the western cat.
Once that impasse had been broken, the rest of the map was partitioned very quickly in a similar fashion. Purring kittens dominated every conversation into the evening.
The postwar world was taking shape, and it was guaranteed, cats would influence any major decisions taken by the Big Three powers. Sally had made history.
Sally at Yalta with the Big Three and Kittens
The Scratching Post and Other Postmodern Forms of Control
The insatiable need for control is a defining characteristic of humanity. No other species on the planet is so preoccupied with ensuring their dominance.
Felines have often been caught squarely in the crosshairs of this trait. History is rife with examples of humans attempting to aggressively eliminate “undesirable” cat behaviors, such as scratching.
Early periods saw Romans attempting to stop cats from shredding the backs of their togas. Swatting at the long, braided hair of the Vikings also proved to be a serious point of contention. During this phase, humans resorted mostly to primitive bully tactics, such as smacking and yelling, to try breaking the will of cats.
The postmodern era ushered in new systems to secure obedience. Gone is the classic approach. It has been replaced by a more decentralized model that favors nonviolent deterrents.
Despite undergoing an evolution from base violence to psychological warfare, the goal of humanity remains the same: satisfy a thirst for supremacy.
Nothing they’ve done has ever worked, of course, but humanity never tires of trying out their bright ideas.
THE SCRATCHING POST
Humans do not recognize furniture scratching as an acceptable method of communicating the desire to jump up on their laps. For reasons as yet undetermined, they have consistently interpreted it as negative and responded passive-aggressively by placing a scratching post in the room.
The look of a scratching post can range from sublime to outrageous. Common features include long shafts covered with rope, elevated seating, and, occasionally, poof balls attached to a metal boingy thing. They are often covered in a material that, to the scratch, makes them feel exactly like the furniture humans sit on.
But a quick examination reveals that no scratching post is intended to support the weight of a human. It becomes obvious that this form of control aims to exploit the probing nature of cats, and their inevitable desire to see what would happen if humans sat on one.
No cat can possibly resist the chance to see this.
Unfortunately, however, the anticipation never ends.
It would appear cats are caught in a vicious paradox, becoming slaves to scratching something that doesn’t deliver on its promise. Theoretically humans have achieved total control, deciding what furniture to sit on and, by extension, the amount of time per day cats may reside on their laps.
In truth, what occurs is that the scratching post only functions to divert cats for a period of fifteen to forty seconds, just long enough to ensure humans won’t try and sit on it. Cats return to scratching furniture, which humans often testily proceed to occupy.
A typical conclusion finds a human with a cat on its lap, pointing to the scratching post, dispensing cursory affection, and then departing. After which, the cycle begins anew.
THE SQUIRT BOTTLE
This method is not completely about control. Use of a squirt bottle also serves to feed humans’ morbid fascination with how fast cats can run. A simple, seemingly innocuous, activity like sharpening claws on a rare Persian ru
g triggers a person’s compulsive desire to watch cats take off sprinting.
The squirt bottle/starting gun has proven a highly effective catalyst. It is respected by all cats for an ability to effectively initiate the Skedaddle Reflex. Any cat can be instantly redirected from wherever they’re scratching to racing down the hall.
A squirt bottle is the most controversial device in the postmodern collection. Proper use delivers a psychological attack and low-level physical deterrent simultaneously. No cat can stand the grating “phisst, phisst, phisst” sound, much less being hit with whatever liquid emanates from it.
Fortunately, humans rarely seize the appropriate moment to use a squirt bottle because of a complete inability to remember where it is. Cats typically recognize the frantic squirt bottle hunt, stop scratching, and slink out of the room unscathed.
VINYL NAIL CAPS
The reason for nail caps is as old as humanity itself: jealousy. Humans are no doubt seized with envy upon viewing a cat’s claw and immediately need to denigrate what they do not have.
As most cats know, human fingernails are dirty, grimy things that are trimmed by biting when no one is looking or clipped in church. A cat’s claw represents something far more elegant and immeasurably cleaner. Claws are also biologically superior, as they do not require paring back.
