Rain, rain, go away

It has been raining off and on for more than 24 hours, and it is driving Fig crazy. The thought of leaving Fig out in a cold storm is more than I can bear, so last night he slept inside like a civilized cat, despite his protestations to the contrary. Early this morning he pleaded to go out. It was only raining lightly, so I opened the door and he ran onto the porch. When he reached the unprotected section of the porch and the rain drops hit him, he turned around and gave me a disgusted look, as if to say "What is this? Make it go away!"


Sometimes I think Fig believes that people have power over the weather, just as we have mysterious power over lights, running water, and other functions within the house. We are both demigods and animated can-openers, the machinery behind the cat universe. I control the flow of water in the sink when I bathe him, so there is some logic, I suppose, in his thinking that I have equal control over the waterworks outside.

It is a strange relationship we share with cats. To them, I think, we are at once both gods and servants. But then, don't we do the same with those in positions of authority over us? We stand in line for hours in all kinds of weather just for a glimpse of a favorite celebrity, or proudly frame a letter from the White House, yet when our icons are caught in the midst of human frailties we are quick to condemn them, or rail against them when their opinions run counter to our own. And how we demand they serve us! One more concert, film, book, or the favor of an intercession with a government agency, a bit of pork for our industry, our city. Somehow, though, the feline approach seems more elegant, less disingenuous. "Yes," they seem to say, "you can indeed make food magically appear each day. So how about putting that skill to good use and opening up a can for me right now?" Ah, the honesty of living in the moment!