Copyrights reserved by the author. If you are in doubt, please click on 'Copyrights' and read the details.Feline envy or a bad case of cat scratch fever? by J. G. Fabiano Crawling back to my house after graduation I had just enough strength to peel off my sweat-soaked clothes, climb up stairs that seemed to be getting steeper every day and crawl into bed. It was the end of a 20-hour day filled with paperwork, students clamoring to get late work in, end of year classroom clean-up and not enough time to scratch what had to be scratched. Such has been my life the past couple of months. Hell, it has been most of my life. But, on this particular evening, as I entered my home, trying not to wake my wife, I was met at the door by my white Persian cat, Kita. He sat on the kitchen floor, staring up at me, probably wondering how I managed a life filled with so many necessities that had to be completed in order to get to the next group of necessities, which probably voided out the first group. For a second I thought the cat actually game me a look of pity. As I reached down to pat him I asked how his day was. His eyes seemed to say that he'd had a wonderful day. In fact, his yesterday had been pretty wonderful and he would most likely have a wonderful tomorrow too. For his life was the life of a cat, whereas my life, atop the evolutionary ladder, was filled with pressures and stresses I had always hoped to avoid. My cat wakes up with me every weekday at about four a.m. when I trudge down to the TV room to work out on my treadmill and attempt to stay in some kind of recognizably human shape. I always promised myself that, when I became older, I would not fall into the trilogy of age, which consists of getting old, getting bald and getting fat. I had already evolved into two out of three and damned if I was going to give into the third. At least not yet. I usually find my cat in one of three places, depending on which season we are in. If it is winter he is lying on the main couch between two large pillows. When it is spring he moves to a white bench we have in the corner of the room. The bench has a cushion on which he likes to stretch out. It used to be blue but, because my cat produces more fur then he could ever possibly need, it has turned a kind of bluish white. The rest of the year he likes to sleep on what I call the perch. This is a high director's chair with another pillow in order to make it as comfortable as possible for him. I assume one of the most difficult decisions my cat has to make is where and when he should sleep. But, I know that during the day my cat has to make many other important decisions. When he isn't actually sleeping he has to figure out where he will take his numerous naps. He is very fond of our living room couches and likes to switch between the two of them. If anybody sits on one of our living room couches, wearing something dark, they always get up wearing a furry pastel. Sometimes our cat will actually go upstairs to one of our bedrooms and lounge around either on our bed or our daughter's bed. I always know he has been there when I wake up in the middle of the night with a fur ball stuck in my throat. Sleeping is not the only thing my cat has to worry about during his day. He also has to figure out what to play with. The other day I counted more than three dozen different toys strewn throughout the house. These include stuffed mice, springy things that look like they were once part of a machine, shiny plastic strips - and his favorite toy; a length of green plastic twine from my grass cutter. My wife keeps buying our cat new toys in the hope that he will be entertained whenever we are away. Knowing my cat, this has never been a problem. Eating is never a source of stress for my cat. Every day my wife gives him fresh water and food. I don't remember a day when his water or food has not been changed. His kitty-litter is also changed every other day because my cat would never put up with anything left in his litter box even though he was the one who put it in there. One possible worry for my cat has is when he will take his massage. This happens at least twice, sometimes three times a day. He gets a full body massage every morning when my wife comes down to join me for my morning coffee. She sits on the kitchen floor and gives the cat a full body rubdown. After his massage he strolls off and decides which couch he will use for his nap. Later on in the day, when we are both home, the cat will roll onto his back waiting for my wife to give him what is affectionately called a `belly rub.' As soon as his back hits the floor my wife gives him exactly what he wants, no matter what she is doing at the time. When he is done he gets up and walks contentedly away. I have sometimes wondered, if I rolled over on the floor whenever I felt like a massage or a belly rub, would my wife do the same for me. No, I don't think so either! The one thing my cat clearly understands is that he will never get a belly rub from me so he doesn't even bother to ask. At night my cat demands even more attention. He has come to expect at least an hour of rubbing and petting until he finally falls asleep at the end of the couch. In fact, my cat's entire day consists of nothing but activities designed to put him a state of total relaxation until he is awakened the next morning by the sound of me getting ready to jump on my treadmill. Once a week my cat receives a full brushing and fluffing in order to stay as beautiful as he was meant to be. This is done by my wife who makes sure the cat is comfortably placed on her lap while she ever-so-carefully makes sure that every piece of fur is in place. Every time she does this she generates enough fur to make a second cat. I once told her to save the fur and have it made into yarn so she could knit me a sweater. Every time I come home at the end of a 20-hour day, I observe my cat living a life of pure contentment. And, even though I can never find the time to scratch what has to be scratched on me, I always seem to find time to scratch him. THE END
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