Cats

Our little Maddie has rediscovered a spinning cat toy that she somehow lost track of over the past few months. It is providing seemingly endless recreation as she creeps up on it, spins the ball in its track, pounces on top of the movement and then finally teases it with her paw to get it to move again. She recognizes the noise it makes, so if you walk by it and set it spinning she will come running from wherever she is in the house - every time. What an idiot. What a wonderful, silly, funny, lovable idiot.

Frik, on the other hand, is obviously too sophisticated for such pursuits. He prefers to play 'string' which requires a human participant, no doubt an affirmation for him that he has "staff" at his beck and call. He stretches out on the desk beside me while I write, flicking his tail periodically as a reminder that he could walk across the keyboard at any point and delete any comment he finds disappointing or misrepresentative. He knows I am writing about him.

A world without cats would be a mean and meager world indeed. Cats are so incredibly, improbably warm and soft; their bodies yield to your contours when you pick them up. If they are the Right Sort of cat (not the 'sharp' kind) they will curl into you and ride along wherever you take them, perfectly confident that wherever they end up, in whatever position or state, they will be sure of the affirmative answer to their most consistent question, "Don't I look nice here?" Who can resist the self-assurance? That all is right with THEIR world surely means your world is in pretty good shape too.

Besides, they purr. You can't top that.

Dogs, with their silly grins and aim-to-please attitudes are ridiculous by comparison. (Not that 'ridiculous' doesn't have its place in the world...) Cats, in my mind, are the top of the heap. Even Terry Pratchett's "Discworld" character 'Death' finds his mood improving when there are cats around.

So I'm going to try to stop thinking of myself as a recluse. I live in the company of cats. That's as good as it gets.