Think About It - By Mike Rogozinski

Coquitlam Now Newspaper

Cats are vile creatures. There are always going to be people who gush about their adorable little fur baby, but I don’t trust any supposedly domesticated animal that can sneak around in total silence and claw out my throat while I sleep. Nature designed cats with pointy teeth and razor sharp claws to easily tear the life from their prey, but when they are kept in confinement their naturally wild and aggressive behaviors turns them into living, breathing furniture shredders. Cats are wild animals and do not belong in civilization.

I used that argument, as well as anything else I could think of, to convince my wife that it just wasn’t possible for us to welcome a cat into our home. We don’t always agree on everything, but in most cases we have a calm and rational discussion and come to a compromise. Unfortunately for her, the idea of opening our door to a cat was ludicrous and just wasn’t going to happen. My decision was final and could not be appealed. I had spoken.

When I walked through the door of the shelter I was greeted by dozens of purring, meowing and playful felines. All the cats looked cute and friendly, but the sight of frayed furniture and shredded drapes refuelled my fears that the furniture in my home would be viciously ravaged too. The sight of disembowelled chew toys and chomped on squeaky balls was gruesome enough, but my stomach twisted when I saw the sofa. When she was in her prime she was obviously beautiful and enticing, but her once taut skin had now become frayed and shredded. The poor thing had a hole torn in her side. Soft cotton stuffing oozed from the wound and fell to the floor. She looked well made and sturdy, but there was no way she could fight back against the frenzied clawing of an untamed beast. At that point I uttered a whispered prayer and hoped my wife would think of our defenceless furniture and come to her senses, but the smile stretched wide across her face told me there was no turning back. We were getting a cat.

My wife helped me to choose a six-month old grey and black female who was apparently part feral, but quite content to play quietly in the corner with a piece of string. I handed the cat-loving woman my money, loaded our bundle of fur and fangs into her carry case and headed for home.

The next morning I awoke to the sound of deep and rapid sneezing. I knew the cat we adopted had a cold, but she was more than just sick; she was defective! Her sneezes were forceful and her tiny nose shot glue-like projectiles onto the floor. For the sake of our carpet I rushed her to the vet. Two small bottles of medicine and one large bill later our slayer of string returned home and settled in for a long nap. I checked on her regularly, but only to ensure she was actually sleeping and not just stealthily destroying things.

Within a few days the medicine started to work and the once calm and docile cat was named Chairman Meow to better reflect her authoritative personality. She rules over the furniture, but doesn’t bite it, chew it or rip it. She hogs it. She insists on sitting where you want to relax, and if you move she decides she wants to move too. The furniture is hers; she merely lets you borrow it for a while.

The ancient Egyptians worshipped cats as gods, and immortalized them in carvings, etchings and artwork. Every day I pay respects to my feline’s divinity, but it’s not because she’s part of the family, or even because I have grown to like having her around. The truth is I’m afraid of her; she knows where I sleep.

Mike Rogozinski lives in Port Coquitlam and always tells it like it is. Comments? Email him at mike.rogozinski@hotmail.com