Tuesday, April 12, 2011
A Cat in the Story of her Own Making
Sometimes you can catch yourself at it, as I did composing the facts of my aches and pains into something I could tell a doctor. Of course he straightaway broke it into its component parts, to see whether they matched any of the stories he knew about such particular symptoms. The result on that was a ream of blood tests. That story on hold until the results come back.
A certain cat called Maggie does a story when she has a problem she can't solve herself. This particular day it was the usual. At a very inconvenient time, too. The set up and first crisis.
The human was weeding in the garden. Maggie Cat went asking. "Mau. Mau." She's spoke very softly and undemanding, but with a definite request in her voice. The suspense... could she make her human understand her need?
When Maggie Cat is reasonable, the human doesn't mind going to have a look, which was how Maggie trained her. She takes the human to the right place by running ahead, showing her the way. Everything is going well.
The problem is with her food bowl. She has inadvertently pushed the remaining kibbles into a flat mosaic around the sides and bottom of her bowl, and is unable to extract anything further out of the arrangement. It is the human's first job to grasp the problem intuitively because why else have them? Suspense. Will the human work it out?
These kibbles, the only ones that come up to scratch in Maggie's opinion, are manufactured in such a way as to be like puzzle pieces, with bits sticking out that interlock as they are pushed around the food bowl. Too bad they are the only sort she likes. Still, as long as there are humans around, she needn't change her tastes. Back story.
The human's job is to put her fingers into the bowl and break up the tesserae by giving it a good stir. Which she does, so that lunch may resume. Resolution.