When a cat oozes around your ankles, it is not just a plea for food or attention (oh, it is definitely partly either or both of those).
When a cat slides or somersaults down the stairs, it’s not simply to show off beauty and agility (although it is most definitely both of those).
When a white or black paraplegic shoots across a floor to get to a stroller or cat tree (definitely depends on the color of the particular cat), there is a very good reason.
When a fluffy little grey cat insinuates herself onto your lap, not only are you probably visiting suite A, but you are experiencing a natural inevitability.
A common thread ties these situations together: the cat, any cat…ever, is in a state.
Regular readers will remember that cats are fluid. New and less frequent readers can look back through Felis Catus to learn more. Either way, I’ve got news from the physics front (not exactly the newest news, but definitely newsy news): cats can exist in many states.
At times, cats are super fluid, sometimes plasma, and — get this — sometimes they are Bose-Einstein condensates, as explained in some detail here.
The short, short version, as if we didn’t know, is that cats are extremely cool. Beyond cool, in fact. Too cool to bother with that fresh pair of Wayfarers.
Walter and Stafford epitomize cool with their tousled ‘dos and devil-may-care attitudes. Claire is a different kind of cool, in with every crowd. Shifty and Simon are the kind of cool everyone else would like to be.
Cotton and Anka? Too cool for school.
Most importantly, in the chill environs of Tabby’s Place, even the biggest goofball of a kitten exists in a perennial state of cool.
It’s just the basic fact of the matter.
Cats know their worth. The language of jazz references cats for a reason. It is just a basic fact – cats are cool and they know it.