Often, when I have been feeling lonely, when a book as been thrust aside in boredom [...] I have lain back and stared at the shadows on the ceiling, wondering what life is all about [...] and then, suddenly, there is the echo of the swinging door, and across the carpet, walking with the utmost delicacy and precision, stalks Four or Five or Oscar. He sits down on the floor beside me, regarding my long legs, my old jumper, and my floppy arms, with a purely practical interest. Which part of this large male body will form the most appropriate lap? Usually he settles for the chest. Whereupon he springs up and there is a feeling of cold fur [...] and the tip of an icy nose, thrust against my wrist and a positive tattoo of purrs. And I no longer wonder what life is all about.

Erlaube," fuhr Meister Abraham fort, "erlaube, mein Johannes, mit dem Just magst du mich kaum vergleichen. Er rettete einen Pudel, ein Tier, das jeder gern um sich duldet, von dem sogar angenehme Dienstleistungen zu erwarten, mittelst Apportieren, Handschuhe-, Tabaksbeutel- und Pfeife-Nachtragen usw., aber ich rettete einen Kater, ein Tier, vonr dem sich viele entsetzen, das allgemein als perfid, keiner sanften, wohlwollenden Gesinnung, keiner offenherzigen Freundschaft fähig ausgeschrieen wird, das niemals ganz und gar die feindliche Stellung gegen den Mensch aufgibt, ja, einen Kater rettete ich aus purer uneigennütziger Menschenliebe ... Es ist das gescheiteste, artigste, ja witzigste Tier der Art, das man sehen kann, dem es nur noch an der höhern Bildung fehlt, die du, mein lieber Johannes, ihm mit leichter Mühe beibringen wirst.

Dear Disney Cruise Line,I would very much like to go on one of your cruises, but I have certain accommodations that need to be made before I book my trip. I need a room large enough to comfortably fit a king-size bed, as well as a king (Juan Carlos of Spain). Juan is afraid of people and will only come aboard incognito. He will be arriving in the costume of a small cat and answers to the pseudonym of “Mr. Fizzlebush.” He will need his litter box changed daily, the finest dry cat food, and fourteen bottles of your finest champagne (he is royalty, after all). His Majesty Juan Carlos is not to be touched, but should he decide to lick a crew member’s face, he or she will be expected to kneel and grovel at His Majesty’s paws. I hope you won’t turn your back on a royal customer.We look forward to sailing with you soon.Thank you,Jarod Kintz

Kiedy w niedzielę przyszliśmy z Vladimirem a mszę, było tak, jak przepowiedział Vladimir. W czasie sumy kot siedział obok dzwonka i patrzył na ołtarz w taki sposób, że kiedy obejrzeliśmy się w pierwszej ławce za siebie, zobaczyliśmy, że a żadnej ludzkiej twarzy nie było widać tyle pobożności i tyle mądrości, co u tego kota, tak, że Vladimir szepnął do mnie, że ten kot, wpatrujący się z miłością w odprawiającego mszę proboszcza, rykoszetem nawiązuje łączność z samym Bogiem, a znowu Bóg za pośrednictwem proboszcza jest w ścisłym kontakcie z kotem, tak więc w wyjątkowych wypadkach koty wysuwają się przed ludzi małej wiary i w niebie musi być mnóstwo kotów.

I dislike this whole business of experimentation on animals, unless there's some very good and altogether exceptional reason to this very case. The thing that gets me is that it's not possible for the animals to understand why they are being called upon to suffer. They don't suffer for their own good or benefit at all, and I often wonder how far it's for anyone's. They're given no choice, and there is no central authority responsible for deciding whether what's done is morally justifiable. These experiment animals are just sentient objects; they're useful because they are able to react; sometimes precisely because they're able to feel fear and pain. And they're used as if they were electric light bulbs or boots. What it comes to is that whereas there used to be human and animal slaves, now there are just animal slaves. They have no legal rights or choices in the matter.

Gus is the Cat at the Theatre Door.His name, as I ought to have told you before,Is really Asparagus. That's such a fussTo pronounce, that we usually call him just Gus.His coat's very shabby, he's thin as a rake,And he suffers from palsy that makes his paw shake.Yet he was, in his youth, quite the smartest of Cats —But no longer a terror to mice or to rats.For he isn't the Cat that he was in his prime;Though his name was quite famous, he says, in his time.And whenever he joins his friends at their club(which takes place at the back of the neighbouring pub)He loves to regale them, if someone else pays,With anecdotes drawn from his palmiest days.For he once was a Star of the highest degree —He has acted with Irving, he's acted with Tree.And he likes to relate his success on the Halls,Where the Gallery once gave him seven cat-calls.But his grandest creation, as he loves to tell,Was Firefrorefiddle, the Fiend of the Fell.

I'll buy you a blow-up doll. I'm sure my mate won't mind when I explain how hard up you are."She didn't bother to punch him this time, just glared with promise of future retaliation. "Very funny. You wouldn't be laughing if you knew how sexually frustrated I am right now." [...] "The last time was when that SilverBlade sentinel was in town for a communications meeting."All amusement left Dorian's face. "You serious? That was months ago." A very long time to go without intimate touch. "Merce, that could get dangerous.""I know. Do you think I don't know?" She thrust her hands through her hair. "Damn it Dorian! It's getting to the point where I'm starting to wonder if some of the wolves would be good in bed. [...]"Cat and wolf isn't a ... um ... normal combination.""And Psy and cat is?" She made a face at him. "Yeah, yeah I know. Cat and wolf is strange." [...]"How about one of the Rats?" Dorian's eyes gleamed.

The Prologue to TERRITORY LOST"Of cats' first disobedience, and the heightOf that forbidden tree whose doom'd ascentBrought man into the world to help us downAnd made us subject to his moods and whims,For though we may have knock'd an apple looseAs we were carried safely to the ground,We never said to eat th'accursed thing,But yet with him were exiled from our placeWith loss of hosts of sweet celestial miceAnd toothsome baby birds of paradise,And so were sent to stray across the earthAnd suffer dogs, until some greater CatRestore us, and regain the blissful yard,Sing, heavenly Mews, that on the ancient banksOf Egypt's sacred river didst inspireThat pharaoh who first taught the sons of menTo worship members of our feline breed:Instruct me in th'unfolding of my tale;Make fast my grasp upon my theme's dark threadsThat undistracted save by naps and snacksI may o'ercome our native reticenceAnd justify the ways of cats to men.

Kissa ja nainen esiintyvät samassa merkityskentässä. Kissalla on "emäntä" ja koiralla "isäntä". Koiran ja miehen suhde perustuu valtaan, kissan ja naisen suhde kumppanuuteen. Kun kissa yhdistetään naimattomaan naiseen, syntyy pelottava liitto, jossa yhdistyvät mykkä animaalinen kauneus ja kahlitsematon feminiininen seksuaalisuus. Saduissa nainen muuttuu tällaisessa liitossa noidaksi.Nykyajan noitia ovat "kissatantat" eli yksin elävät naiset, joilla on kissa tai mielellään monta. Kissatantta on sosiaalisista karikatyyreista halveksituimpia. Hän on ärsyttävämpi kuin esimerkiksi pultsari tai nörtti (tai sukulaishahmonsa moraalitantta), sillä kissatantta investoi tunteensa eläimiin. Kissatantta jos kuka on "eläinrakas", siis eräänlainen sodomiitti, eläimiinsekaantuja. Mitä hänen ihmisyydelleen ja seksuaalisuudelleen on tapahtunut?

TESLA’S CAT[Nikola Tesla’s favorite childhood companion] was the family’s black cat, Macak. Macak followed young Nikola everywhere, and they spent many happy hours rolling on the grass. It was Macak the cat who introduced Tesla to electricity on a dry winter evening. “As I stroked Macak’s back,” he recalled, “I saw a miracle that made me speechless with amazement. Macak’s back was a sheet of light and my hand produced a shower of sparks loud enough to be heard all over the house.” Curious, he asked his father what caused the sparks. Puzzled at first, [his father] finally answered, “Well, this is nothing but electricity, the same thing you see through the trees in a storm.” His father’s answer, equating the sparks with lightning, fascinated the young boy. As Tesla continued to stroke Macak, he began to wonder, “Is nature a gigantic cat? If so, who strokes its back? It can only be God,” he concluded.

It takes me a while to drag him out, he's got himself stuck to the axle, and by the time I am done and stand over the body something strange has started to happen. The alley's filled with a half-dozen cats, runty little things with their ribs showing and their tails worn high like they're pointing to the moon. I stand there, breathing froth into the snowflakes and watch them gather round me, soft kitty paws, and now and then a patrol car rolls past in the distance. The cats are circling us, tails cocked at the moon, their muzzles bloodied by the tail lights' glow. They are vicious bastards, let me tell you: frost on their whiskers, eyes like cut glass, a half-dozen pairs, on me and the dead man. And then they start licking. Licking at the snow I mean, the blood in the snow, they lap it up like mother's milk. And all the while from their throats, from their whole bodies, there issues this sound, you hear it with your skin, it's like an engine running under your palm. That's when I realize they are purring, man, purring as they feed on the midget's death.

Throw a stick, and the servile dog wheezes and pants and stumbles to bring it to you. Do the same before a cat, and he will eye you with coolly polite and somewhat bored amusement. And just as inferior people prefer the inferior animal which scampers excitedly because someone else wants something, so do superior people respect the superior animal which lives its own life and knows that the puerile stick-throwings of alien bipeds are none of its business and beneath its notice. The dog barks and begs and tumbles to amuse you when you crack the whip. That pleases a meekness-loving peasant who relishes a stimulus to his self importance. The cat, on the other hand, charms you into playing for its benefit when it wishes to be amused; making you rush about the room with a paper on a string when it feels like exercise, but refusing all your attempts to make it play when it is not in the humour. That is personality and individuality and self-respect -- the calm mastery of a being whose life is its own and not yours -- and the superior person recognises and appreciates this because he too is a free soul whose position is assured, and whose only law is his own heritage and aesthetic sense.

Man is the Reasoning Animal. Such is the claim. I think it is open to dispute. Indeed, my experiments have proven to me that he is the Unreasoning Animal... In truth, man is incurably foolish. Simple things which other animals easily learn, he is incapable of learning. Among my experiments was this. In an hour I taught a cat and a dog to be friends. I put them in a cage. In another hour I taught them to be friends with a rabbit. In the course of two days I was able to add a fox, a goose, a squirrel and some doves. Finally a monkey. They lived together in peace; even affectionately.Next, in another cage I confined an Irish Catholic from Tipperary, and as soon as he seemed tame I added a Scotch Presbyterian from Aberdeen. Next a Turk from Constantinople; a Greek Christian from Crete; an Armenian; a Methodist from the wilds of Arkansas; a Buddhist from China; a Brahman from Benares. Finally, a Salvation Army Colonel from Wapping. Then I stayed away for two whole days. When I came back to note results, the cage of Higher Animals was all right, but in the other there was but a chaos of gory odds and ends of turbans and fezzes and plaids and bones and flesh--not a specimen left alive. These Reasoning Animals had disagreed on a theological detail and carried the matter to a Higher Court.

He's outwardly respectable. (They say he cheats at cards.)And his footprints are not found in any file of Scotland Yard's.And when the larder's looted, or the jewel-case is rifled,Or when the milk is missing, or another Peke's been stifled,Or the greenhouse glass is broken, and the trellis past repair -Ay, there's the wonder of the thing! Macavity's not there!And when the Foreign Office find a Treaty's gone astray,Or the Admiralty lose some plans and drawings by the way,There may be a scrap of paper in the hall or on the stair -But it's useless to investigate - Mcavity's not there!And when the loss has been disclosed, the Secret Service say:'It must have been Macavity!' - but he's a mile away.You'll be sure to find him resting, or a-licking of his thumbs,Or engaged in doing complicated long-division sums.Macavity, Macavity, there's no one like Macavity,There never was a Cat of such deceitfulness and suavity.He always has an alibi, and one or two to spaer:At whatever time the deed took place - MACAVITY WASN'T THERE!And they say that all the Cats whose wicked deeds are widely known(I might mention Mungojerrie, I might mention Griddlebone)Are nothing more than agents for the Cat who all the timeJust controls their operations: the Napoleon of Crime!

Mungojerrie and Rumpleteazer were a very notorious couple of cats.As knockabout clowns, quick-change comedians,Tight-rope walkers and acrobatsThey had an extensive reputation.[...]When the family assembled for Sunday dinner,With their minds made up that they wouldn’t get thinnerOn Argentine joint, potatoes and greens,And the cook would appear from behind the scenesAnd say in a voice that was broken with sorrow"I'm afraid you must wait and have dinner tomorrow!For the joint has gone from the oven like that!"Then the family would say: "It's that horrible cat!It was Mungojerrie – or Rumpleteazer!" -And most of the time they left it at that.Mungojerrie and Rumpleteazer had a wonderful way of working together.And some of the time you would say it was luckAnd some of the time you would say it was weather.They would go through the house like a hurricane,And no sober person could take his oathWas it Mungojerrie – or Rumpleteazer?Or could you have sworn that it mightn't be both?And when you heard a dining room smashOr up from the pantry there came a loud crashOr down from the library came a loud pingFrom a vase which was commonly said to be MingThen the family would say: "Now which was which cat?It was Mungojerrie! And Rumpleteazer!"And there's nothing at all to be done about that!