"Nobly impervious to the frivolities of time"

"The untamable Tiny" goes for the jugular of a kitty kibble after breakfast this morning.

"Is the cat Creation's supreme invention? I rather think so," writes historian, travel writer and ailurophile Jan Morris in a sparkling paean to our feline familiars in The Wall Street Journal (subscription only):

Whether it be one of the bigger models, a Siberian tiger, say, or one of the elegant boutique breeds like an Abyssinian, the feline range provides the perfect complement to any lifestyle. Some people detest all cats, I know, and come out in eczema when one approaches, but the most rabid felinophobe must surely admit that, as books furnish a room, so cats complete any mise-en-scène.

Caught by the camera's eye in the crinkly-nosed moment before the jaws open wide for a big pink yawn of social recognition.

Writing of Ibsen, who resides with her in Wales, Morris develops her argument:

He is not Welsh at all, being descended from a long line of Norwegian Forest Cats. Some of his ancestors were probably some of those Giant Cats who, as everyone knows, pulled the chariot of the love-goddess Freya through the northern wildernesses of antiquity. He is very large and hairy, kindly intelligent, smells of damp hay and has big feet.

Of course, though, being a true aristocrat, he blends limpidly and genially into any background. For centuries his ancestors, expelled from Valhalla with the decline of the old gods, became regular Norwegian farm cats, tough, fierce mousers, mighty breeders. Like old-fashioned human patricians in changing cultures, Ibsen's forebears went back to the bog -- losing, I would guess, some subtleties of intellect or expression (he does have a distinctly plebeian meow), but retaining those grand old qualities of resolution and independent loyalty that so endeared them to Freya.

Assessisng the exact distance from her perch atop the shower stall to the top of the toilet tank below, she prepares to come back down to earth.

"But every cat, in my view, however pitifully it has been domesticated, de-clawed, inbred, emasculated or infantiled, remains in its heart of hearts the animal it always was," concludes Morris:

A Cat is a Cat is a Cat. The lambs may huddle, the humans may grumble, but the cat, within whatever persona he happened to inhabit, remains nobly impervious to the frivolities of time. If Freya herself, in her foghorn Wagnerian voice, summoned Ibsen to return to his chariot duties, he might go in the end, but only after a protracted yawn, a stretching of front legs first, back legs afterward, and an apologetic flick of the whiskers to me.

Googling quotations of Ibsen the human -- to punch up the coda to our post -- we stumbled upon this perfect one that Ibsen the cat would surely approve:

It is inexcusable for scientists to torture animals; let them make their experiments on journalists and politicians.

Haven't we always said?

Update: Lots more creatures nobly impervious to the frivolities of time at Modulator's Friday Ark #125.

Comments

[hnav]

hehehe...

experimenting on a politician or journalisto?

the data would be minimal...

'purr'

[goomp]

An excellent essay on cats, the longtime comrade of humankind. A mirror in which we can see reflected some of our most basic instincts. Ibsen does describe a most apt duty for many politicians and journalists.

[Gayle Miller]

Some other superior creations of the Other: Sissy, Tuck, Goomp, Tiny and Baby, yes - you too hnav - together with MY beloveds Sam and Tim.

Now that Sam has (after nearly 4 years) discovered that he is welcome on my lap, he is almost on the edge of abusing the privilege! No evening is complete without at least 3-4 visits (accompanied by the appropriate "woof" from me, when he lands because 25 pounds of cat flying out of thin air is a JOLT) that are accompanied by fervid purrs and head bumps. Tim perches on the back of my recliner patiently waiting until Sam is gone and then resumes HIS proprietary lapsit. On days when he knows he has trespassed on my good nature, he sits with his back to me. I am convinced that this is part of cat psychology - if they cannot see you, then it follows that you cannot see them.

Cats are endlessly fascinating and supremely beautiful!

[Eric]

OK, yes...cats are noble and very dignified, and I wouldn't trade mine for anything. But a laser pointer will make any one of them look foolish.

[gestibar]

nice :)
;))