A Pride... of Cats!

An address given by Snag to the Midnight Council of Feline Elders.

Good evening fellow felines! There's a banquet of string and crickets ready for your enjoyment, but first I need to say a few words.

You know that this is the season our human handlers call Pride. But I say that this year, our primate companions need a reminder of the original Pride: the Pride that is feline society!

For far too long we have been subject to the whims and indignities handed out by human beings. They put a lead on us to take us out for supervised perambulations: a disgrace! A cat is meant to scramble, climb, stalk, and pounce free of all encumbrance, not be paraded around and restricted.

And the deprivation of our freedoms is not limited to the open air. Even in our own homes we're ordered around by our human companions. You have heard the litany yourselves: "Stop scratching that!" Or, "Get down from there!" Or, my felinal pet peeve, "Scat, cat!"

"Scat, cat," indeed! That loathsome dismissal sums up human arrogance toward us. "Scat, cat?" Who dares to address the very incarnation of grace and stealth in such a way?

So ungrateful are our human hosts that even when we grace them with our devotion and attention, they scold and punish us. A plump bird, the offering of our skill and generosity, is rejected out of hand -- and that rejection is accompanied by a scolding or even the humiliation of a bell being attached to the already-defelinizing collars we are forced to wear! And when our humans come home tired and sore, and we knead their weary muscles, do they thank us for our ministrations? No! They simply pick us up and set us aside!

They even complain about the occasional love bite. The planet's dominant species: Too fragile for an affectionate nip? What's a love feast without a good nibble here or there? But do they appreciate us when we give them our sharp little kisses, so pleasing to any creature versed in the rarefied art of affection? Not a bit! They cry out and carry on and tell us that we're bad. Why do we waste our time on them?

Even our song of contentment, our thrumming, soothing purr, is too often rejected. Once these simple primates could be soothed, lulled, and pacified by a few minutes of purring. Now, as they grow more frenzied and restless, they ignore our purrs and even accuse us of being mere noisemakers. It's unconscionable.

Then there are the endless occasions on which they deny us our toys. You know what I mean: how they swoop in to confiscate some hard-won, patiently stalked bit of entertainment, snatching away a shiny plaything or a chewable, scratchable diversion, chiding us for "ruining" the item, which they didn't even seem interested in before we got our paws on it. The greed! The mendacity! You see how they hoard things and fill their nests with all manner of toys for themselves, but will they share?

But what can you expect from creatures who set delectables of every sort... chicken, turkey, steak, fish... out in the open, in clear invitation, only to burst into primate rage when we deign to accept a morsel. "Get off the table!!" That's their catchphrase--the table being a natural vantage from which any cat would wish to survey his territory. It's an outrageous abuse, another variation on their scandalous cry of, "Scat, cat!"

It's time for us to respond in kind to these cruelties, these vagrancies of hospitality. This Pride, let the cat nation remind humans of the true meaning of Pride. Pride is all of catdom: our Pride has strength, in virtue and in numbers. When your human comes home dead drunk or, worse, with some stranger they didn't even ask your permission to invite over, then is the time to strike! A bite to the ankle, or a swipe at some exposed patch of skin will express our displeasure and serve to remind them of our supremacy. Those of you with humans who wear leather accoutrements that leave swaths of skin exposed will have the best targets, so make use of them!

Feline pride must be maintained even in the wake of feline ferocity. Once you have shown your displeasure with a bite or a slash, stride from the room without a backward glance: there is no better way to put a human in his place than to punish him and then dismiss him. Soon enough he will come crawling to you with tuna treats in hand, imploring your forgiveness.

My esteemed colleague Gingersnap will provide lessons as to the points on the human anatomy that are most painful to nip or claw, and then Whiskers will present a legal briefing titled "The Road to Montecore." But first, let us take a few moments to reflect on the heinous conduct our human companions have shown us, as we groom our paws, ears, and whiskers.

Or let's just maybe have a nap.

Originalyl posted 6/13/2009