I’m reading a fascinating book about cats that rolls with the name “A Cat Is Watching: A look at the way cats see us” by Roger A. Caras. Therein he describes in able prose the salient facts about cats that most of us have never heard.
The controversy about a cat’s ability to see colors has gone from “shades of gray” to “cats see as much color as they need to see.” That means with their low cone to rod ratio, they see colors, but not as we do, and everything appears brighter to them.
I’ve chose this view of the animal shelter off the south end of the airport to represent how a cat might view it as being brought to its new temporary home. I went there one Sunday of late to see if I wanted a cat. I met a very nervous adult cat, a very affectionate long hair (yikes, a housekeeping nightmare,) a couple senior citizen felines, but no kittens. I’m thinking that IF I get a cat, it should be young enough to adapt to me, rather than the other way around. During a tour, I was walked through the dog kennel where I was soundly yelled at by dogs that, it was explained to me, didn’t like men. I was tempted, but somehow resisted barking back that I wasn’t fond of dogs either!
Yep, I’m not a dog person. They are too loud, don’t hide their droppings, and seldom purr. My daughter’s large female dog on the other hand, now no longer a pup, has fallen in love with me, not being perceptive enough to discern my anti-dog attitude, and comes (not barking – rare I’m told) twisting and bounding, fairly smiling towards me on my arrival, and, I’d swear, purrs when I reluctantly pet her. Dog people would call that ‘unconditional love’ while I just call it ‘good dog’, an oxymoron!
Back at the shelter, Rose, an adult short-hair, all black cat with an attractive face (I am SO fickle, or is that shallow?) nearly fills the bill, but I leave empty-handed, even after Jan, the warden, offered a trial period arrangement. Yeah, I thought, and I’m mean enough to dash a poor cat’s hopes after hauling it all the way to my domicile. “I’m just window shopping,” I said. Maybe I am shallow, or I’m just not sure I can tolerate losing another cat. I told Jan I wanted a cat that could possibly outlive me. Not knowing my allotted time in this mortal coil, I may have to find a cat that could live twenty or thirty years! Guinness people, how old is that in cat years, a record?
Ah, I’m just an old (getting there) curmudgeon that is probably too selfish to share my boring life with any creature, two or four legged.
PS: Photographically speaking; all that foreground in the photo serves little purpose. The scene could have benefitted from a much lower angle of view, a “cat level” view perhaps. I’m trying to train myself to consider all these elements as I compose a photograph…and if I purr when it all comes together, so much the better!