Why Do Cats Do That?

Why do cats do that? "Do what?" you might naturally ask. "Anything," I would reply. Anything that cats are inclined to do, from the routine to the outrageous.

Why, for example, do cats turn in circles, making attempts to contort their bodies to fit into a box that's only half the size for comfort? The result--ample portions of cat hanging over the edges of the box--is comical. And believe it or not, some people still wear clothes that probably fit pretty well back in the 70s, but have a striking reminiscence today of cat in box.

Here's another. Why would a cat pull a pair of pantyhose down a long upstairs hall, descend two sets of stairs, and then drag the treasure down the first-floor hall, all the time squalling as if a prize mouse has been caught? Not much difference in a fellow going to the woods with the firepower of a small nation and bagging some creature--which then ends up strapped across the hood of his pickup, bug-eyed and lolling tongue. Bragging rights.

Why do cats stare for hours at dripping water, a perfectly predictable, monotonous repetition with no variation? Ask someone who sits mesmerized, watching soap operas or sit-coms. Same game, different players.

Why do cats climb to a precarious, dangerous position, then cry until someone comes to the rescue? I gave my mother countless frightful scares trying to string radio antenna wires from the loftiest limbs in our yard. "No prob," I always reassured her before shinnying up a slippery trunk. Actually, neither teenagers nor cats appreciate the danger in such aerial gymnastics. But Thelonius Monk has another spin: "The only cats worth anything are the cats who take chances." Hmmm.

Why do cats jump off a windowsill right into the pit of your stomach when you least expect it? Not for meanness, I'm convinced. They're probably trying to get from point A to point B by the most direct route. Why do friends say or do something--without visible cause or reason, of course--that give your feelings a stunning thud to the solar plexus? Most likely for the same reason as cats--and with the similar consideration of the consequences.

Why do cats wait until you are just barely asleep before crying to go out or come in? Joseph Wood Krutch observes that cats seem to go on the principle that it never does any harm to ask for what you want. But Louis J. Camuti is probably closer to the truth: "Most cats, when they are out want to be In, and vice versa, and often simultaneously." Making good decisions is hard--even for people.

In pondering why personal relationships sometimes go awry, Missy Dizick's words come to mind. "Some people say that cats are sneaky, evil, and cruel. True, and they have many other fine qualities as well." And so do people--if we accommodate their individual peculiarities. We're probably more like cats than we'd care to admit.

Copyright 2001 James McAlister

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