Cat Religion
This is my second re-post, which has been revised and updated for the E:strip market.
Cat Religion
Watching Chita today I have become convinced that I understand the religion of cats.
They worship the god of Sleep, and are his truest servants.
She sat on Z's flat belly (he sits slouched, his "lap" starting as a perfectly flat surface just below his ribs, over his pelvis, and down a very long way to his knees. There is a great deal of territory there for a cat to lounge upon) and washed herself, then moved from his belly to the couch beside him. She finished her bath, then settled down to nap.
This was not just any catnap. This was a nap of epic proportions. This was a creature thoroughly, blissfully dedicated to sleep, the way the dervishes abandon themselves to God in their dances, the way a choir's mingled voices swell toward heaven: that was the way Chita slept, with devout abandon.
I believe her nightly tantrums, Remi's morning rampages, the yowling and chasing and invasion of our bedroom, loud destruction of furniture and banging of food bowls: these are the sacrifices they make to placate their God. Interrupting the sleep of others is their sacred duty. It makes us prize sleep the higher, and increases the glory of their deity.
And then, their sleep is the devotion they perform. Toes curling, whiskers twitching, head flattened upside-down against the cushion, belly exposed, tail wrapped around: it is all a slow-motion, sometimes-purring, beautiful offering to the God of Sleep.
Chita is a champion sleeper. While Remi simply curls up, nose to tail, Chita alternately sprawls and curls. She stretches frequently, toes curling. She prefers, when curled, to use her back feet as a chin pillow. And her long tail, much longer and more mobile than Remi's, is often awake long after she is, twitching in obscure little rhythms as she talks in her sleep. (Cats, for the non-cat-owners among you, speak with their tails, most eloquently.)
Chita is like a priestess in the cult of sleep. Yesterday, she made her devotions for about six straight hours, from before lunch straight through dinnertime. She is truly touched with a special gift.
If only I could get some damn sleep in this house. But no.
Cat Religion
Watching Chita today I have become convinced that I understand the religion of cats.
They worship the god of Sleep, and are his truest servants.
She sat on Z's flat belly (he sits slouched, his "lap" starting as a perfectly flat surface just below his ribs, over his pelvis, and down a very long way to his knees. There is a great deal of territory there for a cat to lounge upon) and washed herself, then moved from his belly to the couch beside him. She finished her bath, then settled down to nap.
This was not just any catnap. This was a nap of epic proportions. This was a creature thoroughly, blissfully dedicated to sleep, the way the dervishes abandon themselves to God in their dances, the way a choir's mingled voices swell toward heaven: that was the way Chita slept, with devout abandon.
I believe her nightly tantrums, Remi's morning rampages, the yowling and chasing and invasion of our bedroom, loud destruction of furniture and banging of food bowls: these are the sacrifices they make to placate their God. Interrupting the sleep of others is their sacred duty. It makes us prize sleep the higher, and increases the glory of their deity.
And then, their sleep is the devotion they perform. Toes curling, whiskers twitching, head flattened upside-down against the cushion, belly exposed, tail wrapped around: it is all a slow-motion, sometimes-purring, beautiful offering to the God of Sleep.
Chita is a champion sleeper. While Remi simply curls up, nose to tail, Chita alternately sprawls and curls. She stretches frequently, toes curling. She prefers, when curled, to use her back feet as a chin pillow. And her long tail, much longer and more mobile than Remi's, is often awake long after she is, twitching in obscure little rhythms as she talks in her sleep. (Cats, for the non-cat-owners among you, speak with their tails, most eloquently.)
Chita is like a priestess in the cult of sleep. Yesterday, she made her devotions for about six straight hours, from before lunch straight through dinnertime. She is truly touched with a special gift.
If only I could get some damn sleep in this house. But no.
