Cats. Can't live with 'em and can't live without 'em.
Humans, and their relationships with cats, come in one of two categories: Love or hate. Even those who love cats may still have difficulty understanding them. It is my private observation that cats don't even understand themselves. Quirky and mercurial - two adjectives that tell the feline story in a bi-nut shell.
As readers of this blog know, I live with a feline, Frances, who is tres quirky and mercurial. She possesses characteristics, if she were human, that would have her on a psychoanalyst's couch for her lifetime. For that matter, just being her owner gives me the urge to recline on a psychoanalyst's couch for her lifetime.
However, in defense of Frances (I can't believe I'm writing this.), I have encountered two other cats that make Frances' behavior seem 'normal'. (Normal - now there is a good topic to opine upon.) These two psycho-kitties, both male, have the smile-now, eat-you-later personality trait of their wild forebearers. I recently spent a multitude of hours around one of these 'psycho kitties', which gave me pause to consider just how 'normal' Frances is. By observing the behavior of cats, and there is some predictability in their unpredictability, I can say, with out a doubt, that cats handle stressful situations far better than their human companions.
I am not defending a cat's predisposition for attacking any live thing it sees when it is stressed - although I can see that by attacking a perceived adversary, the ability to scare the @#^ out of the 'prey' gives a decidedly tilted advantage to the cat. But you have to give a cat his due for the element of surprise when, just after rubbing your leg in a fake-out move, the cat then performs a blitzkrieg maneuver, leaping at your leg, grasping fabric with claws, its teeth seeking flesh beneath pant leg - only to instantly retreat hissing to a corner just inches away from you. Talk about conflicted!
The cue that I have learned from cats is that when they are stressed, scared, mad or otherwise behaving as cats do, they prefer to find a dark, secluded spot in which to feign hiding. It doesn't matter to the cat that half of their body may be visible; if the cat's head is hidden, then the cat feels more safe and secure. This ostrich-like move is one that I may try when enduring a stressful period in my life.
My psycho-kitty is, at least, predictable in her conflicted, Freudian feline behavior. She growls, hisses, and attempts to bite on a regular basis but she does so with the advance notice of a few micro-seconds.
Gives me just enough time to remove myself from the danger zone.
Ancora imparo
