Posted by Walt
A large number of writers work for cats. In a chat at the end of the recent Catholic Writers’ Conference Online 2011, someone mentioned cats and a flood of war stories inundated the chat room. Everyone, it seemed, had one or fifteen to tell about their fur-covered saboteur. A list of definitions for the word “cat” then ensued—I lost count after eleven. Interestingly, I suspect if all present were challenged to generate a similar list for the word “child” or “spouse,” it would be much shorter (though possibly more profane for the latter word).
The question occurs: why did the Lord invent cats and inflict them on writers? Like many things of God, finite humanity has trouble figuring out the infinite. The simple answer is He built cats to teach writers good work habits and to stretch our innate abilities.*
One of the good work habits cats teach is to save your work every fifteen minutes (or, depending on the cat, ten, five, one, negative time—i.e.: save before you type anything or even think of anything to type). This was a lesson learned the hard way during the Clinton administration. The presidential cat, Socks, had the run of the entire White House including the offices in the various wings and basement (even the Secret Service is stymied by a cat). Due to the attractive qualities that keyboards have for cats (see my paper: Keyboard as Simulation of Memory Foam Bedding in Felines), the White House clerical staff–otherwise known as those who actually work for a living–learned from bitter experience to hit “save” at regular and short intervals. Otherwise, they ran the risk of being visited by that agent of chaos and literary destruction and getting to stay over at work that evening instead of spending quality time in front of the TV with a limp pizza and a glass of Boone’s Farm.
A second good work habit is to bundle computer cables together. This helps to avoid a situation known as “Kitten in the knitting bag” in which signal traffic between computer CPU (Central Processing Unit—the big “tower” thingie) and its peripherals (all the stuff plugged into it) ceases because there is a cat tangled in the cables. Dorsey, the cat I work for, often demonstrates that there is an attraction between cats and electrical cables and cords (see my paper: Apparent Electromagnetic Field Attraction in Felines) necessitating the use of loud shouting (remember, use your command voice—rising hysteria merely confirms them in their judgments), noise making (264 decibels or higher works best), and throwing of objects (books, rocks, hand grenades, offspring, etc.).
Cats also can teach the writer the importance of regularly scheduled maintenance. If the resident cat is not brushed often and at regular intervals, guess where all that loose fur ends up—yep, you used to have a hard drive. The hard drive is surrounded by an electrical field which attracts fur and other airborne particles such as the soot given off by scented candles (this suggests that it is the fur that is attracted to the electrical cables rather than the cat itself—old Puff may just be dragged along for the ride). Thus if you work for a long haired cat, it may be a case of brush frequently or thy hard drive shall die.
Another matter of maintenance is “Feed me! Feed me!” Apparently, the “beep” of a PC at startup is on the same audio frequency as the grinding of a can opener or the popping of the lid of a cat food can and is a trigger of hunger in felines. Often, the writer finds that it is simpler to feed the cat just before booting up the computer. That way, the cat will be distracted and the writer can actually get some work done (this same strategy can be utilized with children, who also seem to share this trigger, though the distraction in this case involves sugared cereal and “Arthur,” “Curious George,” and “Sesame Street”).
Cats (and kids) can also stretch one’s abilities. The “Okay, she’s busy. Now we can…” reveals unexpected abilities the writer was not even aware they had—such as eyes in the back of the head and the sonar-like hearing of a fox. The writer’s preternatural abilities are discovered and are forcibly stretched like a Stretch Armstrong doll (a toy with even less function and charm than a Slinky—at least a Slinky only requires one operator)Thus, God’s plan for writers’ improvement is revealed. Adversity builds character. Of course, after all that adversity, you’re probably going to be too pooped to write those characters down.
*This can cover dogs too—especially the small, cat-like ones (which, according to Dorsey, proves that canines are slowly evolving into a higher life-form).
2 May 2011: Feast of St. Joseph Luu
