We bought our cat this cat tree and now she
spends all her time in there. What does she do in there?
The renowned anthropologist, Dr. Loo C. Cat, a.k.a.
Dr. Aphid Cat-in-borough leading her team of mousesters
students, studying dinky life in the wild.
I
have come again to the high rise jungles of dinky Vancouver to study
the ape tribes in their native habitat. With my mousesters students, I
have established camp in a cat tree near the apes. From this
unobtrusive perch, we can pretend to sleep, or continually wash
ourselves, all the while observing the strange behaviour of the apes.
It's been a quiet month in the Jungle. The rains of winter are
leaving and magnolia blossoms are filling the canyons between the
dinky housing blocks.
Every day I study them, I feel closer to my apes. They must be so
cold, the poor things- no body hair. I do what I can- shedding all
over their clothes, etc. See, without fur balls to lick, how can they
ever join polite society?
What magnificent creatures they are. Each morning, the he-ape farts in
bed, staggers to a semi-upright position, scratches his tummy, and
gazes bleary-eyed around the room. Meanwhile, the she-ape pulls up the
laptop from the bedside table and reads spam.
Their language seems simple to us- no use of smell or tongue, for
example- but still supports complex social interactions.
"Make the
coffee" says the she-ape.
He grunts.
"Did you hear me?", she asks.
Two
grunts in reply.
"I made it yesterday", says the she-ape.
Mumbling
something unintelligible, the he-ape staggers off to the kitchen to
burn his finger on the kettle.
Such a compact language! Yet still the
tribe can organize hunter gatherer behaviour (for coffee beans) while
maintaining a rich social structure of obligations,
counter-obligations, lingering resentments, and half-spoken
complaints.
To be sure, they can infuriate me sometimes. The she-ape's jigsaw
puzzle box would be a purr-fect litter box. I could dump there, then
politely hide the product. But if I did, the she-ape would just go on
and on about it. I mean, really. How petty.
Sometimes I think I'll terminate the whole experiment. Eat them
all, then go strolling off into alley ways to taunt birds. Then the
apes do something endearing- like make muffins and offer me an eggy
mixing spoon- and I think I might spare them the claw (just for a few
more days).