(Guest writer: Gertie the Cat)
Humans are curious creatures and continually surprise me with their antics and odd behaviors. Their lack of logic and inability to walk on four paws explains their propensity for failure in the feline world in which we all live. But it's their penchant to cause harm to themselves that has me worried about the future of their species. I witness horrors in my own home on a daily basis.
Each morning, the two-leggers living with me arise from their sleeping pedestal, remove their protective garments and step into a ceramic box, which resembles a large litter box (but without the litter, making it much less useful). Once in the box of torture, they turn on rain (yes, rain), which pelts down upon their pitiful furless bodies. After they are soaked - and surely miserable - they exit the box and wipe the moisture away with a large blanket. Why get wet if they are immediately going to dry off? Why get wet at all?
The female human takes this odd routine further. She uses an air gun and aims it directly at her head, toward the little fur she has. She keeps shooting herself until her fur is dry.
The male's behavior is even more bizarre. He holds some type of fur-eliminating gadget in his malformed paw and buzzes it on his face. He is removing his own hair. The female performs a similar action on her walking limbs. I couldn't believe it the first time I saw it. I've witnessed years of this self-mutilation and am certain it is no anomaly.
Next the humans use various instruments to prod and poke at the orifices on and around their faces - undoubtedly for the purpose of harming themselves. They take a long narrow brush, coat it with white foam and insert it into their eating cavity. They do not, as one would suspect, eat the foam. Instead they spit it into another ceramic box, this one smaller than the one with the rain, and raised from the floor about three tail lengths.
After this, they attend to the ugly flaps on the sides of their heads. I'm not sure what purpose the flaps serve. Dog surmised they are for hearing, but I can't imagine something so unattractive having the same purpose as my perky, pointedly beautiful ears. The humans insert small white sticks into their flaps and use the sticks as some sort of probing device. I'm not certain, but I fear they may be removing their own brain matter in another form of self-abuse.
The distressing routine now calls for the blowing cloth. Humans wrap the blowing cloth around their sniffer and make loud puffing and breathing sounds. They throw the cloth in the garbage - with their breath (and perhaps more brain matter) still in it. I can only imagine how many lives this has cost them.
Finally, they squeeze one drop of liquid from a small bottle into each of their blinkers. Dog (the ever optimist) believes this is a sight enhancement technique, but I think it's more likely another example of self-injury.
At this point, the male - who finishes his routine of torture long before the female - enters the rain room holding a third, much smaller ceramic vessel by its handle. This one is filled with putrid brown liquid that the female pours into her eating cavity in a crude fashion that has none of the grace involved with lapping and licking.
After a couple of pours she often says something like, "Umm. Good coffee. Just the right amount of cream."
I'm no expert, but I know cream when I see it - and when I don't. This brown liquid is definitely not cream. (I even tasted it once to make sure. I nearly died. Most likely poison.)
You can imagine my concern. As a feline, I show my great empathetic inclinations by rubbing my body against the human's bipedal limbs in attempt to soothe and telepathically communicate that harmful behaviors are not the answer to their obvious inadequacies. I sleep on them at night to provide added comfort. Still, I fear the worst, and you probably know what that is.
If the humans living with me perish, who will give me my catnip?
- Jill Pertler's column appears every Thursday in the Times. She can be reached at pertmn@qwest.net.
Humans are curious creatures and continually surprise me with their antics and odd behaviors. Their lack of logic and inability to walk on four paws explains their propensity for failure in the feline world in which we all live. But it's their penchant to cause harm to themselves that has me worried about the future of their species. I witness horrors in my own home on a daily basis.
Each morning, the two-leggers living with me arise from their sleeping pedestal, remove their protective garments and step into a ceramic box, which resembles a large litter box (but without the litter, making it much less useful). Once in the box of torture, they turn on rain (yes, rain), which pelts down upon their pitiful furless bodies. After they are soaked - and surely miserable - they exit the box and wipe the moisture away with a large blanket. Why get wet if they are immediately going to dry off? Why get wet at all?
The female human takes this odd routine further. She uses an air gun and aims it directly at her head, toward the little fur she has. She keeps shooting herself until her fur is dry.
The male's behavior is even more bizarre. He holds some type of fur-eliminating gadget in his malformed paw and buzzes it on his face. He is removing his own hair. The female performs a similar action on her walking limbs. I couldn't believe it the first time I saw it. I've witnessed years of this self-mutilation and am certain it is no anomaly.
Next the humans use various instruments to prod and poke at the orifices on and around their faces - undoubtedly for the purpose of harming themselves. They take a long narrow brush, coat it with white foam and insert it into their eating cavity. They do not, as one would suspect, eat the foam. Instead they spit it into another ceramic box, this one smaller than the one with the rain, and raised from the floor about three tail lengths.
After this, they attend to the ugly flaps on the sides of their heads. I'm not sure what purpose the flaps serve. Dog surmised they are for hearing, but I can't imagine something so unattractive having the same purpose as my perky, pointedly beautiful ears. The humans insert small white sticks into their flaps and use the sticks as some sort of probing device. I'm not certain, but I fear they may be removing their own brain matter in another form of self-abuse.
The distressing routine now calls for the blowing cloth. Humans wrap the blowing cloth around their sniffer and make loud puffing and breathing sounds. They throw the cloth in the garbage - with their breath (and perhaps more brain matter) still in it. I can only imagine how many lives this has cost them.
Finally, they squeeze one drop of liquid from a small bottle into each of their blinkers. Dog (the ever optimist) believes this is a sight enhancement technique, but I think it's more likely another example of self-injury.
At this point, the male - who finishes his routine of torture long before the female - enters the rain room holding a third, much smaller ceramic vessel by its handle. This one is filled with putrid brown liquid that the female pours into her eating cavity in a crude fashion that has none of the grace involved with lapping and licking.
After a couple of pours she often says something like, "Umm. Good coffee. Just the right amount of cream."
I'm no expert, but I know cream when I see it - and when I don't. This brown liquid is definitely not cream. (I even tasted it once to make sure. I nearly died. Most likely poison.)
You can imagine my concern. As a feline, I show my great empathetic inclinations by rubbing my body against the human's bipedal limbs in attempt to soothe and telepathically communicate that harmful behaviors are not the answer to their obvious inadequacies. I sleep on them at night to provide added comfort. Still, I fear the worst, and you probably know what that is.
If the humans living with me perish, who will give me my catnip?
- Jill Pertler's column appears every Thursday in the Times. She can be reached at pertmn@qwest.net.
