Via my girlfriend, I’ve inherited two domestic house cats, and lately I’ve been using the miniature beasts as a natural alarm clock instead of a technological solution that 99.9% of the human population uses to will jolt themselves to life each morning. I’d rather sleep through my obligations than hear the horrific sounds of digital terror created by sleep-deprived engineers clamoring through microscopic silicon speakers, eliciting a fight or flight response as I prepare for my twelve-thousandth straight day of cubical warfare. The default Apple alarm sound Radial sounds like it was created with the intention of reminding a prisoner of war interrogator that the captured person of interest needs another drill hole in their skull. Analog alarm clocks have a cool retro aesthetic vibe, but I’m not in the point in my life where I’m a regular user of Metamucil and the Sunday Comics, so those dust collectors are also not an option for me. The sun only holds utility on days with clear skies. But the hungry feline always rises early.
Thanks to their closely related common ancestors, cats are crepuscular1, which means you’re looking at a four-hour window of potential wake up times, ranging from 5 AM to 9 AM. It’s better that way anyway. The man that arises at the same exact time each and every day is dead on arrival. A living corpse filled with fruitless productivity. I would rather work the Uranium mines in Namibia than follow a strict morning routine. Flay the nearest guru alive. Domesticated cats, despite not fully being domesticated (or in the words of dog people, assholes), do have the ability to learn behaviors and respond to stimuli; in the case of my new fur-coated alarm clock, it is the learned behavior of meowing in my groggy face until I am forced to rise from my slumber and provide the tiny beast with breakfast. Which is fine. I accept that deal. Man is made to bond with animal, and what better way to create a bond than sharing a meal together.
Cleo (pictured above, in Feline Alarm Clock (Trademark) position) is the definition of a scaredy-cat, having originated from urban alleyways, but she does not hesitate to state her presence when the stomach is grumbling. I cannot help but respect the dedication to the craft. She knows that in an alternative life path, she would still be chasing mice through side streets like Jason Statham in a 2000s action film. She also knows that her ancestors worked hard to manipulate humans into a perpetual state of indentured servitude at the ready for the Felidae family. Thousands of years ago, African wildcats were brought under reigns by unsuspecting Egyptians. Little did the Egyptians know they were creating a multi-billion dollar industry out of thin air that would only take a few millennia to manifest. I do not wish to dive too deep into the mysticism and esotericism around our Earthly fauna, because surely there is someone who is far more experienced and more psychotic out there able to talk about this subject on end. We’ve all had our own strange encounters with animal; mine include coming face to face with a coyote in the middle of the forest behind my parents’ house, dragging a 30-pound common snapping turtle out of the muck-covered pond that sat behind my grandmother’s house, and staring down a Bison.
I just think it’s funny that cats managed to hit the genetic lottery when it comes to the perfect balance between domesticateable traits and independent traits. The domestic house cat is a true aristocat (pun intended) because they have managed to branch off from their wild brethren while also maintaining an arms-length relationship with their “captors”, unlike their arch-rivals canines, who are essentially hospice patients. A domestic cat chooses to live in comfort within the confines of the human’s abode, fully knowing they are capable of not only surviving, but thriving out in the wild. My grandmother’s late cat, an orange tabby aptly named Rusty, lived to 20 and not once allowed any human to pick him up off the ground. He hunted frogs and robins for sport. He had a summer home in the shaded areas surrounding the two ponds that sat on my grandmother’s property, and in the fall and winter when the weather turned cold, he would temporarily migrate to his vacation home, which was a cozy mat seated next to the space heater in the garage. What a fucking life that stupid little feline lived, basking in his glory and elite genes which brought him sustenance and arrogance.
So when I’m not-so rudely awakened by the gentle mewing of Cleo’s squeaky voice, I cannot help but chuckle to myself as I rustle out of bed and head downstairs to fill her bowl to the brim with a meal fit for a king.
She earned it, after all.
Onward,
Tony
Humble Wordsmith
Writer Boy
Cat User
Will Undoubtedly Get Mauled by A Wild Animal One Day Due To My Irrational Belief That I Can Tame Any Creature
You don’t know what crepuscular means? Idiot! Crepuscular is a term used to describe an animal that is most active during the twilight hours (dawn and dusk). Most predators are crepuscular because their prey are also crepuscular. Their prey evolved to become crepuscular as a way of avoiding likely interactions with their likely predators, who at the time were most active during sunlight hours. For millions of years, predator and prey have been playing a game of evolutionary cat and mouse, evolving to wake and eat when the other is asleep, and vice versa. Who will win in the long run? No one. On a long enough timeline, the survival rate for all species falls to zero.