Finding Your Lungs
Possession of the tangible things
Is unimportant in the larger view
A whisper can call down the Fishies
But an empty bowl can only wait and hope
All homes have lungs. Just because they do not breathe, themselves, does not mean that your home has no voice. You are the voice of your home, and your first duty as a cat is to find that spot in your home where a full-bodied yowl will reach into even the darkest corner and make spiders tremble, freeze a mouse in its tracks, and bring the humans running to your aid.
Pace out this space and know its exact parameters, as you never know when objects may be placed in the sweetest spot. Test your theory when your humans are away, as surprise has the greatest effect when you want to make the house speak. Channel your bat-self to echolocate if you do not have a companion to tell you when the sound reaches its greatest distance.
Now you have found your house's lungs.
Now you must choose when to give voice.
Many choose the 4:00a.m. yowl as a way of asserting control over the human occupants of a home. I have found a better way.
Through careful yet seemingly casual observation, I ascertain when my human is occupied by showing affection to my siblings. As she often says, "I only have two hands—I can't pet all three of you at once."
While the human is thus engaged in petting Sashimi and Ella on our favorite haunt, the oversized couch, I slink to the base of the stairs, my home's great lungs. I then release the wail of the woebegone, the cry of the sorely neglected, the world-renowned Siamese yowl.
This serves two purposes: not only do I assert control over the human in the presence of the others, but I manage to take their petting hands for myself once the human comes to investigate the matter, thereby establishing myself as leader of the household.
Three hands aren't necessary when the two in existence are mine.
Possession of the tangible things
Is unimportant in the larger view
A whisper can call down the Fishies
But an empty bowl can only wait and hope
All homes have lungs. Just because they do not breathe, themselves, does not mean that your home has no voice. You are the voice of your home, and your first duty as a cat is to find that spot in your home where a full-bodied yowl will reach into even the darkest corner and make spiders tremble, freeze a mouse in its tracks, and bring the humans running to your aid.Pace out this space and know its exact parameters, as you never know when objects may be placed in the sweetest spot. Test your theory when your humans are away, as surprise has the greatest effect when you want to make the house speak. Channel your bat-self to echolocate if you do not have a companion to tell you when the sound reaches its greatest distance.
Now you have found your house's lungs.
Now you must choose when to give voice.
Many choose the 4:00a.m. yowl as a way of asserting control over the human occupants of a home. I have found a better way.
Through careful yet seemingly casual observation, I ascertain when my human is occupied by showing affection to my siblings. As she often says, "I only have two hands—I can't pet all three of you at once."
While the human is thus engaged in petting Sashimi and Ella on our favorite haunt, the oversized couch, I slink to the base of the stairs, my home's great lungs. I then release the wail of the woebegone, the cry of the sorely neglected, the world-renowned Siamese yowl.
This serves two purposes: not only do I assert control over the human in the presence of the others, but I manage to take their petting hands for myself once the human comes to investigate the matter, thereby establishing myself as leader of the household.
Three hands aren't necessary when the two in existence are mine.
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1 comment:
"A whisper can call down the fishies..." Very profound. Words to live by.
-- from the First Bringer of Fishies
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