Writers and Cats

Although it doesn't seem that long, it's been five years since I had my original cat put to sleep. She was suffering from a type of blood cancer and had lived a relatively long life. Recently, however, we have adopted another cat, an independent and "willful" (as the vet put it) one-year-old with black-and-white spotted fur.  I suspect she lived as a stray from some time, since she came from a cat-rescue group and still seems wary of our attentions. She spends most of her time on a chair in the kitchen, taking in the sun from the window. All of this has led me to think about cats and their place in the human world.

I always feel a bit embarrassed talking about my cats. Something about the male ego and insecurity wants us to be apologetic about cat ownership, to say, "Oh, there's this cat, but I really like dogs," or something along those lines. The generous explanation for this gender difference is that men enjoy the scruffy rowdiness of dogs as well as their loyalty and generous spirit.  The less charitable explanation (as I saw it put on a message board once) is that men are looking for their pets to be loyal slaves. In the movies, cat owners are often evil, corrupt, or exotically dangerous (see The Godfather), whereas dog lovers naturally come across as loyal and good-hearted, even if the character is a bit of a reckless loner. In America, especially, we tend to associate cats with crazy old ladies and lonely spinsters who live in apartments. At the risk of sounding defensive, ironically enough, I'd like to meditate on the special quality of cats and also comment on the interesting relationship between cats and writers.

From what I've read (I won't bother to provide a citation), the relationship between domesticated cats and humans is much more recent than that between dogs and humans.  Thus, while dogs have become known as "man's best friend," the relationship with cats remains a bit more guarded, not as bone-deep in its intimacy or natural in its closeness. I think the level of closeness can vary a lot depending on the individual cat (or dog, for that matter), but the stereotype of cats as aloof and less friendly rings true enough. We can assume, although it's impossible to prove, that cats were originally domesticated because they kept pests away, and they stuck around for the protection and supplemental food provided by humans.  So, originally, it was just enough to have a cat around. Dogs, on the other hand, seem to have evolved as guard animals, so by definition they needed to be physically closer and more trustworthy and trusting in the bond they shared with humans.

The aloofness of cats provides part of their cool charm, of course. They don't really "care" to interact with humans (although that's personifying them to start with), and they are content to do their own thing, which mostly involves sleeping and catching lizards. Whereas the dog clumsily displays his love in the most obvious ways, the cat keeps himself guarded and mysterious. You have to figure him out, and that takes a while. In the photo above, you can see the way Ernest Hemingway watches the cat.  Being closer to their wild counterparts, in some ways (although again this is all quite unscientific), cats remain fascinating to watch as animals. They behave very much like wild cats, pouncing and stalking mostly invisible prey, sleeping in that half-awake way (as the term "cat-napping" suggests) that allows them to hunt or defend themselves at a moment's notice.

Writers and readers love cats because cats don't interfere with those activities. They aren't noisy and do not demand attention. They either stretch by the fireplace or sleep nearby while one thinks, reads, or writes. American writers especially enjoy a long history of cat ownership and mutual admiration.  The irascible Mark Twain was fond of cats; I like to think they had a calming influence on his cantankerous spirit. One of his cats was called "Sour Mash" (like the whiskey).  Edgar Allan Poe recalls a "wonderful" tortoiseshell cat curling on his wife's chest as she lay dying.  The hipster beat writer Jack Kerouac movingly wrote about the death of a favorite kitten in his autobiographical novel Big Sur. Ernest Hemingway, with his famed brood of six-toed cats, emerges of course as the most well known of American cat lover-writers. Hemingway hunted game in Africa, and he admired the stealthy and wild-like movements of the domesticated cat.

One of Hemingway's cat descendants (allegedly) in Key West (original photo) 

Male writers appreciate cats, as I have said, because they are interesting to watch (and writers are observers) and quiet companions who do not demand too much from their owners. Writers, too, as artists, do not seem to worry too much about whether being fond of cats is unmanly or whether others would approve. They simply enjoy the company of their cats and go about the business of writing and living.