After one of my cats disappeared recently, I added a new member to my feline population. Many candidates applied for the position. There was that scruffy fellow who appeared on my porch with a knapsack on his back. I didn’t mind when he devoured all the food I set out for such transients but when he made off with the dishes as well I decided he was not a good choice.
I viewed several hopefuls at the vet’s office. They were cute enough but there was no magic, no stringed instruments playing like they do in that hair dye commercial where the man and woman run towards each other in slow motion through a hayfield. Or was that an ad for an allergy medication?
On a trip to a nearby pet store, it happened. I spotted Max, a pathetic orange-eared creature crouched in the corner of a big cage that serves as a kitty hotel for adoption hopefuls. There were close to thirty cats in this feline halfway house, staring from every nook and cranny. Cats don’t pretend; they were obviously not thrilled to be there but they made the best of it, considering the alternative. They had toys and tunnels, blankies and beds, and since every human entering and leaving the establishment was forced to view their sad-eyed stares, they were moving out of there faster than a fresh shipment of Beanie Babies. Not my guy. Glassy-eyed from his fourth day of a hunger strike, he was about to be placed back in solitary when I surprised myself by announcing “I’ll take him!”
I expected the usual adjustment period -- the hissy fits, the macho displays, the blood-curdling vocalizing -- all part of the cat orientation process., I planned to provide a private room and bath for the first week and went about my business. But on the third day, I popped back home in the middle of the day and made a discovery which put me on a par with the anthropologist Margaret Meade.
I became a witness to a secret society previously unknown to humans, more closely guarded than any weirdo religious cult or maverick militia group: I stumbled into Kitty Boot Camp.The ever-dominant Spike, Capo di Tutti Capos of all resident cats, had them lined up on the living room rug, the hapless Max dead center, while the feline Fuehrer delivered his own version of “The Rules.” “While I’m putting this loser through Basic Training, you’ll all get a refresher course,” he said. “Some of you have been getting sloppy with your discipline and I’m putting you on notice: It ain’t gonna fly! Do you read me?” After a barely audible murmur of meows, Spike’s legendary temper hit the boiling point. “I CAN’T HEARRRRR YOU!!!!!”, he fumed, followed by a roaring response worthy of a pride of lions. “Okay, from the top, the Cat Code of Conduct:
(1) ASSEMBLY will take place at 0700 hours on the kitchen table. If our human is having coffee, about face and present rear quarters as close as possible to her nose.
(2) WEAPONS - Claws are to be kept sharpened at all times. Basic maintenance should take place on furniture, carpets and woodwork with particular attention to that tapestry-embroidered Wingback chair in the living room. Testing will be carried out on owner’s lap when receiving daily pats. If she doesn’t scream and eject you , you’re falling behind.
(3) ENTRIES AND EXITS - Doors are to be kept open at all times. If you find one closed, use the head-butting or paw-hammering technique to summon owner. Accompany with loud vocal signals if she’s asleep. Our policy on outside doors remains the same: Stand halfway out and review your decision for several moments before moving, longer in inclement weather.
(4) HAIRBALLS - Proper disposal consists of placing them on chairs, sofas, beds, tables, carpets, or most desirable of all, in the owner’s sneakers. NEVER, I repeat, NEVER, leave these items on a linoleum floor!”
(5) SURVEILLANCE - If owner is performing any of the following tasks, you are to report immediately and take up your position::
GUESTS - Pay particular attention to those who hate cats or have allergies. When rubbing against clothing, first choice is always black or navy blue . For visiting clergy , in-laws or insurance salespeople, perform mating ritual upon their legs.
EVACUATION - Sightings of pet carriers, combs or brushes constitutes a MAYDAY alert. Drop everything and rendezvous in usual spot behind the waterbed. You can hole up as long as three days back there.
NIGHT MANEUVERS - Sleep all day to conserve energy for toy retrieval, broad jumping on owner’s bed or cat wrestling matches to be held between midnight and 4 AM. Ignore these rules at your peril. Let’s just say cats have been known to disappear.around here.” His smile was pure evil. From my hiding place, I watched them goose-step from the room. How did I feel? Betrayed, duped, manipulated - all of the above. Yes, it was a giant leap for mankind but at what price? Some truths are better left unknown.