What is it about cats? People just love them. Some do not. That haughty, superior, even imperious demeanour; that “stroke me for my pleasure” edict, “particularly behind the ears. Because, after all, you and all humans are my slaves. Just be grateful I’ve chosen you.”
How is it possible such an animal can survive, even comfortably coexist, in a democracy? With the emphasis on “comfortably”, because no other creature on Earth insists so single-mindedly on its creature comforts above all else.
Is there a more narcissistic, self-centred, self-satisfied mammal on Earth? Farther afield, even?
Which is to be reminded of an old but forever wonderful joke where cats are concerned.
Beauty & the Beast review: On the way home, younger audience members re-enact scenes. There’s no higher recommendation
Matt Cooper: I’m an only child. I’ve always been conscious of not having brothers or sisters
A Dublin scam: After more than 10 years in New York, nothing like this had ever happened to me
Patrick Freyne: I am becoming a demotivational speaker – let’s all have an averagely productive December
An Alsatian, a Corgi and a cat die and arrive at the gates of heaven to be met, not by St Peter as usual but none other than by the Almighty himself.
Unusually, considering they had not gone to “the other place” and so must have arrived at the gates on merit, he asks each of them what they believe in.
The Alsatian, as with any good German shepherd, replies in true Teutonic style: “I believe in discipline, training, and loyalty to my master.” God pats him on the head and says: “Good dog, come on up here now and sit on my right-hand side.” The Alsatian does as bid.
He then turns to the Corgi and asks: “I know you were very much favoured by one of our newer arrivals, Her Majesty Elizabeth II, by my grace Queen and Defender of the Faith, but what do you believe in?”
The Corgi replies. “Then, as I’m sure Her Majesty will have already told you, I believe in the love and care of my owner.”
God, being God, of course knows this. He smiles and says “come on up here and sit on my left-hand side. Once the Corgi is comfortably in place, God then turns to the cat and says: “Ah, my cool feline friend, what do you believe in?”
The cat is somewhat nonplussed, confused even, at the question, regarding it as, well, impertinent, as if to indicate the answer is so obvious no reply should ordinarily be either necessary or required.
Its tail poised high, the cat announces: “I believe you are sitting in my seat.”
And that’s gospel.
Cat, from Latin catta, Greek katta.
