March, 2001 Monthly Feature : Each month I have been putting together some of my favourites to share with you. Archives
The Cat's Miaow
[ Do you see that kitten chasing so prettily her own tail? If you could look with her eyes, you might see her surrounded with hundreds of figures performing complex dramas, with tragic and comic issues, long conversations, many characters, many ups and downs of fate.
Ralph Waldo Emerson ]
Great artists and writers are drawn to cats as cats are drawn to milk. Whether immortalised in the tombs of Egypt, the scrolls of Japan, the statuary of ancient Greece, or illuminated medieval manuscripts, the cat has sparked the imagination of countless artists throughout history. Baudelaire, Hardy, Hemingway and Poe all wrote with cats, for cats, and (quite possibly) in spite of cats. In spite of? Yes, in spite of. The proud pet of two cats myself; I find it difficult to effect any work at all when they are in the house. Once upon a time I had a cat - one cat. His name was Merlin, and he was a beautiful white tom with thick soft fur and a penchant for lying around dozing and purring contentedly. Last fall I decided that Merlin could use a companion, a kitten perhaps! This is how a tiny little puff of black smoke named Morgan came into our lives. I had no idea what I was in for (someone really should have warned me). A rumbly tumbly dervish, a witch with magical disappearing powers (however did the cat get in the wall?), capable of leaping tall bookcases in a single bound - what I brought home was a Merlin-igniter. No longer content to sleep plumply for hours on my feet, Merlin chases Morgan, who chases Merlin, then they both turn and attack my toes under the blanket. "Let me in", "Let me out", "Let me out NOW", "Feed me", "Pet me", "Watch me overturn this large vase full of flowers"...How is a person to write with two cats twining between her legs purring? Is it possible to type with a kitten dancing on your keyboard? How can I concentrate on a book when, out of the corner of my eye, I see a kitten prancing sideways and preparing to pounce on poor sleeping Merlin? Oops - there they both go again, I think they are chasing dust mites (or perhaps faeries). I'd write more, but I have to go protect the lamps.
K.M.G.
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Mungojerrie and Rumpelteazer were a very notorious couple of cats. As knockabout clown, quick-change comedians, tight-rope walkers and acrobats They had extensive reputation. They made their home in Victoria Grove-- That was merely their centre of operation, for they were incurably given to rove. They were very well know in Cornwall Gardens, in Launceston Place and in Kensington Square. They had really a little more reputation than a couple of cats can very well bear. If the area window was found ajar And the basement looked like a field of war, If a tile or two came loose on the roof, Which presently ceased to be waterproof, If the drawers were pulled out from the bedroom chests, And you couldn't find one of your winter vests, Or after supper one of the girls Suddenly missed her Woolworth pearls: Then the family would say: "It's that horrible cat! It was Mungojerrie--or Rumpelteazer!" And most of the time they left it at that. Mungojerrie and Rumpelteazer had a very unusual gift of the gab. They were highly efficient cat-burglars as well, and remarkably smart at smash-and-grab. They made their home in Victoria Grove. They had no regular occupation. They were plausible fellows, and liked to engage a friendly policeman in conversation. When the family assembled for Sunday dinner, With their minds made up that they wouldn't get thinner On Argentine joint, potatoes and greens, And the cook would appear from behind the scenes And say in a voice that was broken with sorrow: "I'm afraid you must wait and have dinner tomorrow! For the joint has gone from the oven-like that!" Then the family would say: "It's that horrible cat! It was Mungojerrie--or Rumpelteazer!" And most of the time they left it at that. Mungojerrie and Rumpelteazer had a wonderful way of working together. And some of the time you would say it was luck, and some of the time you would say it was weather. They would go through the house like a hurricane, and no sober person could take his oath Was it Mungojerrie--or Rumpelteazer? or could you have sworn that it mightn't be both? And when you heard a dining-room smash Or up from the pantry there came a loud crash Or down from the library came a loud ping From a vase which was commonly said to be Ming-- Then the family would say: "Now which was which cat? It was Mungojerrie! AND Rumpelteazer!" And there's nothing at all to be done about that! T.S.Eliot |
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