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It was unseasonably warm that moonlit night, and everything on TV was either reruns or roasted rats, so when I let the cat out, I surreptitiously followed him.
Hector is an aptly named cat, since that's his major talent -- hectoring. He wants in, he wants out, he wants fed, he hectors and hectors until you give him what he wants.
Hector was also the name of the noble Trojan warrior in the Iliad of Homer, and our Hector also fancies himself a great warrior.
That was a surprise. We had him castrated at the proper young age, and the veterinarian assured us that henceforth he would be fat and lazy, loafing around the house without a trace of masculine belligerence.
Instead, we used to waken to the caterwauling as he conducted 3 a.m. romantic trysts under the next-door neighbor's boat, parked only a few yards from our bedroom window.
His battles have cost him the tips of both ears and the end of his tail. He lost use of an eye that is now a dull gray. He also got his scalp ripped open on several occasions.
Every time I took him to the vet then, I inquired about a refund on the obviously ineffective neutering. Either that, or the feline repairs should have been covered under an implied warranty, since we had been assured that these sorts of things were not going to happen after that surgery.
And so, as I trailed the tomcat on that warm summer evening, I expected to see an exciting night on the town. But instead of visiting the feline equivalent of a singles' bar, or preying on some small rodents, he slunk down the alley for a couple of blocks, then entered a large and substantial shed that I had never noticed before.
One of the rough wood shutters was open just enough for
me to peek in, and I heard a deep gravelly voice announce
that Now that Hector is here to represent the house-cat
alliance, this meeting of Animals for the Ethical Treatment
of Humans will now come to order. Our first order of
business is a position on the proposed Boulder
ordinance.
Yogi Bear, who was chairing the meeting, called on Polly
Parrot after she raised her wing. As I understand
it,
she said, they want to replace every reference
to 'animal owner' in the city code with 'animal
guardian.'
I think we should encourage them to quit being so
politically correct, and go for accuracy instead,
she
said, adding that phrases like Human Servant at Our Beck
and Call
or Deep Pockets
would be more apt.
Pot-bellied Petunia Pig conceded this was indeed more
accurate, but I think we should avoid taking a formal
position, and just leave it to the Boulder City Council.
After all, if terminology mattered, I'd be permanently
dysfunctional. Why, they even compare my noble species to
congressmen when they talk about hogs lining up at the
trough, and yet my self-image is intact thanks to this
wonderful swine channeler ...
Yogi cut her off. You've made your point, and we
don't need to hear about how you're still in touch with
your inner piglet.
Hector mentioned that he was feeling in touch with his inner kitten, on account of a catnip plant his servant had just installed in the garden.
Polly said this raised some ethical questions. One
of my previous servants lost his house and went to jail for
growing some plant he called 'Guynip' that he would dry and
smoke,
she explained. How can we allow humans to be
treated that way?
Yogi agreed it was a problem, but didn't see much they
could do about it. Besides, we have bigger issues. My
cousins over in Douglas and Jefferson counties always
respond in an ethical and courteous way when humans move
into their neighborhood, and you wouldn't believe how those
humans react.
He brought up the next topic -- wolf re-introduction.
It's unfortunate that none of our lupine members can be
here to explain this,
he said, but I don't know of
any reason we should oppose this.
Coyote the Trickster rose from his apparent slumber, cleared his throat with a couple of howls, and addressed the group.
You're trying to undo one of my greatest
accomplishments,
he said. Years ago, I tricked the
white folks into exterminating the wolf hereabouts. That
pretty much eliminated my competition, so that now we
coyotes are more numerous than ever before.
Polly objected. I don't think that's especially
ethical, tricking people that way.
Trickster said it was more a matter of letting them fool themselves, and Yogi soon lost control of the meeting as the argument became general.
Having endured far too many meetings like that during my journalistic career, I left. Next morning, when I went out to get the paper, Hector acted as though nothing had happened to improve his ethics. He just wanted in and then fed, right away, and of course I obeyed.
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