Today I was talking about cats with a friend of mine. She suggested that cats sort of live in their own little world. As I looked down and saw my fat cat Troi staring off into space, I had to agree.
Cats seem to live in their own dimension: the Feline Dimension. That cat sitting there staring is living in a world we just don’t understand. In the Feline Dimension sight and sound are all very well, but smells are more important. If you’ve ever had a cat sniff disdainfully while trying to settle into your lap, you know what I mean. It’s as if they’re saying, "Oh my, I can’t possibly sit THERE." (Even though the cat sat there yesterday, the day before, and pretty much every day of her life.)
I think that cats only have an interest in humans at the points where the Feline Dimension intersects with ours. For example, in the Feline Dimension, O-Dark Thirty is the time of awakeness. If you’re a cat, you can see in the dark, so if you want to raise a ruckus, O-Dark Thirty is the time to do it because you can annoy the most people.
Feeding time is another time when the Feline Dimension intersects with the human one. At the appointed hour (i.e. the hour appointed by the feline) it’s time to start demanding food from the human element. Possible ways to suitably motivate the human may include yowling, slapping food bowls around, or splashing in the water dish.
After all, the Feline Dimension is a wondrous land whose boundaries are not of the imagination, but the cat.