Everything I Need to Know I Can Learn From My Cats

My partner Georgia and I have three kittens that were abandoned and rescued from a feral cat colony. Although Sadie, Lola and Beckham have only been with us for about five months, they have already become our main teachers in life.

Going to make a quick diversion here to explain the names: Sadie came first and is the oldest by two months. Sadie is a diminutive of the name Sarah, which has Hebrew origins and means “princess.” From the moment she recovered from being abandoned in a gutter, where she was literally being eaten alive by insects, Sadie acted like a member of some obscure royal cat family, combining heart-melting affection with independent, regal aloofness. Still does.

Lola and Beckham (Becks for short) came two months later. We chose the name Lola because after her recovery, she acted with a willful independence that made Sadie seem like a wimpy, cooperative sycophant. There’s an old song that has the line, “What Lola wants, Lola gets.” Once we remembered that song, her name was a no brainer. No matter how hard we try to school her, Lola still gets what Lola wants.

Beckham is one of the most sweet-natured cats that Georgia and I have ever seen. He meanders through life at his own pace, living in his own little world. He’s not retarded, but has clearly come to the planet to live life at his own pace and be damned with these skittish rush-around, high strung females. When he wants to, Becks can take off like a cheetah at dinner time, but he soon loses interest in velocity and quietly returns to merely ambling though his own version of reality.

Here’s why we named him after David Beckham (our favorite English football player): When he first arrived in our lives we gave him a little sponge soccer ball to play with. Even though his legs were still wobbly, he immediately started dribbling the ball with both front paws. He would skillfully steer it around furniture, even when he crashed into that furniture himself. His full name soon got shortened to Becks, the barf-making diminutive of David Beckham’s full name. Ah well… we still love him. So that’s a full introduction to our kitten-cluster. Here’s what we’ve learned from them:

They live in the moment. Even when you have to tell them off for doing something loony, like trying to climb the sheer bedroom drapes using only their front claws, or circling the family room at 60 miles an hour using furniture to avoid touching the ground, they soon forget your agitation and start over with no memory of the past. And I’ve yet to see any evidence that the future features in any way in their world.

They free-flow through time as if it didn’t exist. They eat when they’re hungry, not when the clock tells them it’s lunch or dinnertime. They graze on and off all day and drink gallons of water with their food. And after eating they take some after-meal exercise playing hockey on the kitchen floor with their hard food.

They don’t get up with the sun or go to bed at night. They have what we have come to call “Frisk Time” which is a euphemism for them careening around like lunatics. And if it feels good to have Frisk Time at three in the morning, they do it. To hell with those humans who are stupidly conventional enough to think that nighttime is for sleeping. If they get sleepy during the day, they sleep. It may be for only 10 minutes, after which they stretch as only cats can, and get right on with the next piece of mischief they just dreamed up.

When they feel playful, they play. Oh my, the number of times I’ve been in boring corporate meetings and wanted to get playful; just wanting to cackle like Amadeus in the movie when people say stupid stuff; or make flatulent noises with my mouth when people shift in their seats. Yeah, I know, it’s juvenile, but no more juvenile than some of the stuff I’ve had to listen to in corporate meetings.

When they want affection they climb into your lap and make themselves totally irresistible. It’s the most blatant example of forgivable manipulation I’ve ever experienced. And just when you tear yourself away from the TV program you’re trying to watch and start petting them, they lose interest and leave.

They ignore conventional wisdom. Beds aren’t for sleeping on, they’re for cavorting on, especially at night when the humans are trying to sleep. Human bodies are for sleeping on providing they can find a comfortable spot, even if it’s the head. Their choice of napping locations around the house have made that old joke true – if you want the best seat in the house, find the cat!

Oh, yeah, and they don’t think – they just act on their instincts. No navel contemplation in kittenland. If it feels good, they just do it (these are Nike kittens, man). No risk analysis or endless agonizing about should I or should I not rappel up John’s legs with my claws out so I can grab the string on his pajama pants. No sir. It feels right so let’s do it. Whoeee. Hot damn that felt good! No thought about why John is moaning and clutching unmentionable parts of his anatomy. Live life to the full! I’ve decided to believe in reincarnation because, that way, I might get to come back as a monumentally independent cat!

I apologize to all you dog lovers and other animal owners out there. I’m sure there are just as many things to be learned from your pets. Post a comment and let me know.