Power Plays for Beginners, Chapter 1:7

The Care and Feeding of a Human Being


The whisper of a whisker
Means more than a pile of gold
Do not be fooled by power plays
Or take yourself too seriously
For time escapes us all
And there are many ways to say goodbye


To listen to my sisters speak, you would think that all we did with our lives was eat and sleep. While some may think it behooves us to have the humans think that, we must give credit where credit is due. Many of our two-legged friends understand that we have far more important things to do and to think about than they do, and that is why we should be treated with appropriate deference.


Instead of talking about power in terms of control, I want to take a moment to talk a bit about the care and feeding of your human. Not the feeding of the belly (there is no accounting for human tastes), but the feeding of the soul. Human beings are delicate creatures, easily injured by a harsh look or offhand grumble. This means that they must be treated with more care than you would a kitten, but also that they are easier to keep in line. The simple act of turning your back deliberately on a human should instantly bring solicitous remarks, but sometimes harsher measures must be taken, including a loud bawling out and the occasional swat, depending on the offense.


I want to caution you not to take these measures too far, however. Turning from the lighthearded to the serious, I give you the following story. We have the ghost of one of the current humom's former feline companions living with us, and she has shared with me her tale of caution:

The Ghost Cat's Story

I was your humom's companion in her younger years, and she was mother, sister, and world to me and I to her. We grew up together, from kitten to cat, from girl to teen to adult. And in those intervening years between teen and adult, she left me. Abandoned.


Not to the wilds or the pound--she was not that kind of human--but she left me at her mother's house while she went off to what she called college and I called complete lack of communication.


The first time she came home after several months away, I didn't let her out of my sight. She had abandoned me, but she had returned. No questions asked, all forgiven. Until she left again after less than two weeks.

The next time she returned home, I still didn't let her out of my sight, but I never got within arm's reach. I followed her from room to room, but each time she looked at me, I casually turned away as if there was nothing there at all.


By the end of the hour she was clamoring for my attention. Eventually, I gave in and gave it to her. Then she went away again.


On her final visit home, I was completely unforgiving. I ignored her in favor of anyone else in the room, and only came to rest on her bed after I thought she had fallen asleep. I didn't come to her when she prepared to leave again. I didn't know it was the last time I would see her, that before her next visit, the life would quietly ease out of me as I slept one day in the sun. My body was old, but I was still the younger spirit she had left; the one who never said goodbye.

I haunt her now sometimes, and she haunts me back. I forgive her in her dreams, and she cries because she doesn't know if it's me or just her own mind.

***
Let that be a lesson to you all, human and cat alike, to take your power seriously and use it wisely. Take the time to say both hello and goodbye.