Passing the "Cat Test"

I visited Holy Cross just the other day, and my former professor, Prof. Schmalz, suggested this as a post topic. Subsequently, I dedicate this post to him.

So, what is the "Cat Test?" Well, for my entire life, I have owned at least one cat. Gradually over the years, that number has increased significantly. However, I think we rarely give our furry friends, regardless of species or persuasion, enough credit when it comes to evaluating the character and compatibility of the people we choose to date.

The first really discerning cat I had was Harriet. She had her own opinions about things, people, her environment--she wasn't afraid to make it clear to you if she was dissatisfied (and all of this remains true of her to this day). I'll never forget when she met John for the first time in my apartment in Plymouth a few years ago. He was already a little wary of her being around, and she chose to capitalize on that by entering my bedroom at about 2 AM with a still-semi-living mouse hanging out of her mouth. As soon as she was assured that the human company was all awake, she dropped the mouse on the floor and proceeded to chase it around the room.

Subsequently, I don't think he ever came by the place again.

Harriet also took a rather disapproving bent towards M. I was with M for a little over two years, and the first time I brought him home to the same apartment, she left a huge pile of poop on the carpet in the living room. Now, Harriet is a smart cat, and never before had I witnessed an "accident" of this kind with her as the culprit, so I had my suspicions about her intentions. Gradually, as the relationship progressed, she decided that I wasn't listening to such clear and well-put gems of wisdom, so she resigned herself to just ignoring him until the relationship ended.

Anne also is rather particular with her company. She didn't like M either, but she had more of a reason for that. M labored under the incorrect assumption that all animals smaller than him liked to play in the same way. He did not operate on the delicate deferential system cats require, so when I was at work on the weekends and he was home on his days off, he would chase Anne around the house and if he caught her, he would throw her into his laundry basket. The result of such teasing was Anne's refusal to come out from under the bed when he was around the house and hissing at anyone who tried to change that resolution. Anne wasn't one to take such behavior lightly, and when no one was around to correct her, she would pee on anything she could find that she could concretely identify as his.

Because of this, I thought that Anne just didn't like men at all--given she grew up in the company of her sisters and had me as her primary caretaker, it seemed to make sense to me. That was until she met my father. My father is a self-proclaimed hater of cats, although that doesn't seem to be the case in practice. Anne took to him right away--she follows him around the house from task to task if he is home and when he isn't, especially if he is away on a business trip for days at a time, she will sit on the end of his side of the bed and wait for him to return.

Did all of the relationships end with the non-cat-approved men? Would I be keeping this blog if they hadn't? Perhaps their sixth sense outdoes all of our "human" abilities to reason through situations and relationship. In the meantime, while we waste all that time coming to our senses, they are contented to wait until we correct the problem they already see coming.