I’m not sure there is any creature out there more passive-aggressive
than a cat.
In their defense, if they could speak, maybe they would be a
little more direct.
Like instead of my one cat, Rumble, waking me up each
morning by putting his dirty, litter paw on my mouth or by licking the inside
of my ear just so I will get up and feed him, maybe he could just act like a human
toddler and jump on the bed and scream, “I’m hungry. Feed me.”
Both of my cats love staring out the window. They love bird watching. They love random-leaf-moving-in-the-wind
watching. And when a bee or fly or
spider crawls up the screen, Rumble, in particular, goes nuts, doing that weird
chattering cat thing until I tell him to cut it out.
Then of course he stops for a second and then starts
chattering again another second later.
But for various reasons, I wind up keeping the blinds down
for a good portion of the day, either because I’m too lazy or because it’s so
hot out and I am trying to keep the condo in cave-like coolness.
And wouldn’t you know it, both cats have developed
interesting ways of letting me know they are not okay with this.
Rumble will sit on the bench, just below the window and paw
at the blinds, slapping at them again and again. (He loves blinds. If I didn’t have cordless blinds, he would
have already pulled the ones in front bedroom off the window.)
Over and over again, slapping at the blinds until once again
I yell at him, “Cut it out!”
Which results in a slight “mew” from him and a batting of
his huge, round, kitten eyes at me, before turning back around and pawing at the
blinds.
Little Girl, though, turns passive-aggressiveness into an
art, with a monk-like devotion to making her point.
With Little Girl, I get the silent treatment. I get Little Girl sitting on that bench under
the window and staring at the blinds—STARING AT NOTHING—for hours because that’s
how pitiful she is and how horrible I am, to make her sit there with nothing to
look at but increasingly ugly-Rumble-mauled-mini-blinds.
And yet, of the two, Rumble and Little Girl, who gets their
way most often?
Little Girl.
Yesterday, Little Girl’s eyes were acting up, both so runny
and swollen that she could barely open them.
I had to gently wipe them both and hope that today they would be
better. And they were.
So, when Little Girl sat in front of the closed blinds this
morning, you better believe I got up and opened them for her so she could see
out.
She had barely been able to see at all yesterday, how
heartless would I be to deprive her of the view from the window?
And while I may not recommend Little Girl and Rumble’s
passive-aggressive style for the rest of us, I cannot help but appreciate their
dedication and fondness for the little things.
How often do we take time to simply sit and stare out the
window?
How often are we amazed by birds and insects?
Rumble once sat transfixed by a snail climbing up the
screen. As you can imagine, that took up
a good chunk of his afternoon.
How often do we nap?
How often do we burrow under the covers like Rumble does …
just because?
How often do we play?
Sometimes I swear my cats sleep for twenty-three out of
twenty-four hours a day and yet, for those few minutes here and there that they
are awake, they live.
Comments
Post a Comment