Thursday, January 31, 2013
That's my cat.
Or, that's the area I assume my cat inhibits.
You see, my cat is so uniformly black, he is nearly impossible to capture in a photograph. He pretty much looks like a shadow with eyes. If he didn't try to trip me all the time, I might assume he didn't exist at all. Like my cat was actually a rip in the universe; a blackhole portal to another dimension.
But think about how great that would be?
He would be a walking, purring, self-bathing rip in our entire reality as currently understood. Imagine having a cat that, instead of throwing up matted-up hairballs, threw up debris from far away galaxies.
Any morning when running down the stairs, he could twist between my legs and cause me to step on him - but since 'him' is actually a vortex that sucks objects from Earth and projects them into a world that has no resemblance of our rules of dimensions and physics, I'd instantly be distorted into some un-human form. Possibly that of a cat.
So there's a chance that my cat sucks in Earth-bound objects and spits them back out as cats. My cat could be the genesis for all cats. He is sort of the Abraham of cats - where to understand the number of cats that are direct descendants, you'd have to count all of the grains of sand on the beach and stars in the sky.
But those damn yellow eyes also make him look like something much more evil than a simple tear in the universe. If he were nothing more than a portal or a vehicle, he wouldn't be able to emit emotion. Looking at his sulking, all-black figure and being caught in the glare of those yellow eyes, it's impossible not to feel something haunting and...human?
Human in that something so dark, so dark to be almost unable to be viewed beyond simply his blackness, feels like some sort of a choice. And choice, as a burden and a gift, belongs solely to humans.
So there's also a chance that my cat is the physical representation of human evil. He exists solely through the hatred emitted by us as a species. He is a Dementor or a Ringwraith, or something that non-nerds understand.
Which is fairly believable. We'll go long stretches without seeing any evidence of the cat being in the house - even after an exhaustive search. Perhaps he uses the forces of evil to escape the house and do the Devil's bidding. Maybe he is using us as nothing more than a host - like some sort of parasite, his only attachment to us is as a cover for his true passion: evil. He may have chosen us, that as middle-class, white-collar, suburban parents, my wife and I provide no strong pull towards good or bad. Our existence is so insignificant it poses no need to be destroyed through evil. He can live under our roof with no questions of his true motives, and no need to destroy the host.
But with either scenario - is there really any need for question or concern? If he is a portal to another galaxy, it really impacts my life very little. The threat of being disfigured and distorted into cat form would be more threatening if I wasn't already exposed to the life of a cat; which is to say, a life of leisure.
If he is a physical incarnation of natural human evil? My only concern is guilt. Should I pose any threat, I wouldn't be here to write this blog. Housing a pure and functioning act of evil under my roof is obviously not an honorable act, but neither is dying; at least not in the case of trying to defeat an evil greater than my mere suburban hands could injure. So while looking the other way as I protect something evil is despicable, martyrdom for the sake of martyrdom is hardly a sign of courage. Besides, I have a family to think about.
Which brings me back to the original point.
That's my cat.
The extra-curriculars that surround my cat really don't matter to me. I cannot control them and they don't impact my life. My cat might not be a cat - or even be real. But I fed him cat food this morning. I'll scoop his litter tonight. He's a part of my house whether he's a cat or something completely different than a cat.
So, to me...
That's my cat.