viernes, 10 de diciembre de 2010

"The Stamp of the Feline Pheromone: the pre-ovariless days"


I am acutely aware that I write a lot about myself; I enjoy it, ‘tis a subject of great interest for me. But recently I’ve been deep in the careful observation of a cat. The cat entertains and baffles; its out of the ordinary lifestyle is, quite frankly, bizarre.

The cat’s days are passed under no great pressures, splitting the hours between cleansing itself, playing with itself (not in the sexual manner), eating and shitting in a box, then hiding its faeces under a bed of litter: chocolate Easter eggs of the domesticated feline world.

However, what interests me the most are not the points aforementioned, rather the phenomenon that takes place once the mysterious blanket of change is thrown over its being (and tucked in at the ends). The cat emerges, not as a cat but as a sex crazed nymphomaniac concerned with one thing and one thing only: the quest for satisfaction.

Tables, stairs, beds, bags, shoes, feet (it loves feet…for the obvious potential a toe possesses)…the list has no limits (limitless). It is as if Robert Pattinson was sent blindfolded, most probably naked as well (the two, more often than not, ride hand in hand) into a Sunday evening Mass at an all girls' Catholic boarding school:; an uncut, black and white tribute to pheromones and the suggestive, beautifully sown lexicon of Stephenie Meyer.

Postman Pat’s cat, it appears, did not struggle with the coming of womanhood (maybe because it was a man cat, or conveniently asexual) but instead floated along in a sexless wilderness, suspended above menopause and yet pinned before puberty: its sexual identity stripped crudely from it by the monotonous rhythm of mail delivery; a slave to the royal insignia.

Two very different cats, leading two very different lives, preoccupied by two very different things; neither conscious of the directions they head in.

Moral of the story: “You can’t always get what you want….but you can try sometimes.”

(Next to follow will be the dramatisation of the day I lost both my jobs...and other poor stories)

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