Rant on Cats

I know that by writing this I’m taking another step into the all-encompassing, life-consuming world of cat-fixation, but I figure I’d risk it since it makes a good story.

Here’s the thing: I don’t like cats. And, I’ve seen how they can take over the lives of people. My grandma, Mema, started with one cat she “rescued” from a Wal-Mart parking lot and now is known as the “Feline Baroness” of southern Atlanta with the responsibility of caring for (presumed) hundreds of cats in her local area. She’s seen about 8 generations of the wild strays and while entertaining to everyone in the family, it’s also a bit disconcerting (in part because they all have names like, “mama”, “baby-mama”, “granny” “baby-sister”. etc. based on how they’re related).

Here where I live in Beppu, I’ve stumbled upon a community of cats (tame, wild, and insane) who live in, around, behind, and close to/by my house. There have been eight feline characters in play over the last few months and I’ve noticed how (despite my general apathy for cats) my life and theirs are getting rather involved.

Things started small…me saying hello to them when I returned home (something I felt obliged to due because four wild ones would greet me outside the front door) and gradually become more friendly when I started feeding them from time to time (only when my housemate asked me to). Then I got sucked into their local cat wars. For political and social reasons I don’t fully understand, only some of strays are welcome at the house while others are hated and shouted at if they turn up at feeding time. I joined the alliance of the welcomed cats (all nice folks except for the slutty female with a goofy eye) and did my part in shouting at the menacing black and grey cats who slink around sometimes.

This got a bit more complicated when I learned that the one indoor cat (and the only one in my opinion who should receive my loyalty or food) hates all the other cats and sometimes attacks me for no reason (to date, I have been clawed and bleed three times and bit on the face—with bleeding—once).

Whatever…the lives of cats are similar to the lives of teenage girls with petty hatreds and unexpected psychotic behavior…you just deal with it. BUT, despite my careful relationship with everyone, I found myself in the middle of constant problems. Inside cat and black cat fight and howl at all hours of the day and have even moved their fur-flying battles to the living room; slutty female now only glares at me because I gave her kittens away to a friend; retarded black/white cat won’t move out from under my car when I need to leave; and someone keeps trying to break into my room in the middle of the night via the window screen (which is nosily pulled open with claws!).

So here I am telling the world about my life with the cats…a sure sign that I’m on a path to become my grandma. I can only hope my creativity in naming my cat army with equal hers (love ya, Mema!).