Cat

 

When making the bed, is the cat simply trying to help? It is a truth of domestic life that no sooner has the human arrived at that moment where the bed from the night before must be set in order for the night to follow, than the cat arrives and proceeds to stand in the middle of the bed, pressing his (or her, as may equally be the case) paw onto the mattress, for what purpose no book has yet explained. Theories doubtless abound, such as the cat is testing for monsters below the surface, a mouse or the like, like their ancestors. Perhaps they are marking the place where they will later curl up in tranquillity, an improbable theory given the extensive period it takes them to hold up progress setting the bed on its return to tranquil unrumpledness. Determination to be under the doona before the doona is even squared and smoothed is an added conundrum. They might frolic and pounce. They might rest quietly (he, she, any of them) beneath these coverings, pretending nothing is happening. Their human is stopped in its tracks, interrupted in the shake and fling of bed-making. The cat has no skills in this area. Its presence seems designed only to provoke annoyance and certain acerbic remarks about feline motives; feline used here in its negative sense. The cat has never done a day’s work in its life and certainly never once while anywhere in the precinct of a bed. Gallantly sheets are tucked into corners and under the trim yet piled mattress. Pillows are made plush and covers puffed to airy lightness by their human, no thanks to the clawing and tramping of the one true possessor of this queen-size quadrangle of languorous linen. The burrowing form curves beneath the spreads, unsettling all efforts at perfect turnouts. A telltale tail curls below the unsheeted sheet, pyramidal ears poke from an unexpected quarter, it is impossible! There’s nothing for it but for the human to fetch its quarry, lifting the nonchalant charmer from its fun and delicately plopping the cat on the floor in a graceful four-point soft landing. Is the cat a creature of ritual? At the very least, this temporary stoppage to the domestic routine must occur some hundreds of times in a given lifetime, cat and human alike. The human frets, the cat licks its fur. The human huffs, the cat stands and stares, giving a brief thought to its next move. The human must hurry or the cat will hop gaily into the centre of the bed again, else preen a while in anticipation. The human has one minute, the cat has all day. Duty duly done, the cat’s human gives the edges a final brush and is out of there, for the thousandth time this lifetime, leaving her (or equally, him) to sharpen claws against the bedpost before ascending the bed and choosing a snug area whereat to turn into a snoozing curl and turn in for a few hours of undivided at long last tranquillity. Humans, what to make of them?