A Tale of Two Kitties

May 2020

It was the best of times, it was the worst of times, it was the age of wisdom, it was the age of foolishness, it was the epoch of (dis)belief, it was the epoch of incredulity, it was the season of Light (Animal Crossing), it was the season of Darkness (Tiger King), it was the spring of hope, it was the winter spring of despair, we had everything before us except toilet paper and Clorox cleaning wipes, we had nothing before us except endless laundry, cooking, and cleaning, we were all going direct to Heaven for homeschooling, we were all going direct the other way for risking our lives shopping at Trader Joe’s—in short, the period was so far like the present period, that some of its noisiest authorities insisted on its being received, for good or for evil, in the superlative degree of comparison only. BLAH BLAH KNIT ONE PEARL TWO.

I have too much time on my hands, but it is either time on my hands or a broom in my hands. The anxiety over the Decameron I haven’t written or even the public domain play I haven’t adapted, or the series “The Good Place” that I wanted to watch, is at war with the self-loathing I feel for not completing my “Learn Arabic” course or keeping up with “Mod Po.”

Mod Po, FYI is an obsession with poems that make no sense unless you work very hard at making them make sense. Does that even make sense? Trust me: It is worth making sense of this paragraph.

Or don’t trust me. I assigned The Princess Bride – the book – not the movie – to my 8th grade English class, once, just once. That still haunts me.

Anyway about the Kitties- because you’re not here for Dickins, there are these 2 cats, Trevor and Emma.

Emma is a vicious beauty. She is a long haired white heterochromatic, delicate featured, uber bitch. Emma has been with me since she was an abandoned baby but nevermind, she barely tolerates me. Nevermind also, that I nursed her back from the brink of death. Such an ingrate.

But why should she be different than my human housemates?

Trevor is a sweet boy who loves to snuggle and be held. He’s also snow white with a bushy tail and yellow eyes ringed with blue.

Emma likes to beat the crap out of Trevor Mommy Dearest style.

And every day is the same for them.

It’s strange that I’m identifying more with cats and the beta fish in the 5 gallon tank, than with humans.

Humans, right now, terrify me more than this pandemic. Seems like the everything we’ve learned from the best of history and literature, as well as the moral, ethical underpinnings of religion, has been upended.

What matters? The stuff we know doesn’t. The stuff Hannah Arendt warned us about when she talked about the really bad stuff that happens when people feel isolated.

And she knew, first hand, all about it.

We had warnings from Huxley, Orwell, Weisel, King Jr.

We had warnings from the Bugels. Video killed the radio star. Then reality TV killed the video star. Then social media killed reality TV. Social media will kill everything else.

I’m not putting the blame on one person, one side, one cat. It takes a lot of (tech) people to build a pillory. It takes a lot of (users) people to shame the guilty. Or the not guilty.

Behind a lifeless black screen we have the power to hurt.

Social media is not very social. Demented and sad, but not very social. It is an artifice.

Nature, it appears, is in on the game. If you can’t beat em, join em and keep them all at home with social media as the connective tissue.

I watch my cats a lot. Emma established her place in the animal kingdom pecking order and Her Majesty makes demands of the world. Other cats and most humans admire but despise her. Trevor harbors no delusions of grandeur. He asks of the world. He takes his lumps but remains kind. He is adored by everyone, except his mother.

There are several parallels you may draw or assume. There are no great psychological insights to offer. I’m just passing time and describing my cats.