Skip to main content

Sundays

There was a time when I waited for Sunday. After a week of work, and I worked hard, a day of rest  was very welcome. I loved to sleep.  I am not an atheist, and I go to church maybe once a year for  midnight mass on Christmas eve. So I'm not a churchgoer basically. Therefore Sundays did not mean  that I was seated in the pews in church listening to the pastor's sermon.  The pastor, in fact,  would not recognise me until my sister, who goes more often to church, introduced me as her brother  after Christmas Eve mass. I also had a problem sleeping and would lie awake at nights trying desperately trying to fall asleep. I tried counting sheep and it never worked. I also tried those sleeping videos on YouTube. I listened  \ and felt bored. They were not music I was familiar with and they kept my eyelids firmly apart. Even a safe  tranquillizer that my doctor prescribed did not have any effect. The on...

Dogmatic versus Catatonic

A friend once asked me if I was catatonic. I knew for certain that I was not dogmatic. 

In 'dogmatic' you realise there is  'matic'  something like automatic. Auto slobbering, auto barking and more.

But with 'catatonic' you see that 'tonic is part of the ball game. You don't get dogmatic slobbering. The tonic part of the cat is very pleasing. It might chew up your socks. You should have changed the smelly things many months ago anyway. Just don't blame the cat, it is just trying to keep the air at home fresh.

The cat has knowledge of where its favourite food is and will try to nick it. It points to the intelligent and the efficient burglar. There are cat burglars you know; a thief who enters a building by climbing to an upper storey, an act learnt from a cat. That's what cats do in innocence, but the cat is not a burglar. A cat is a killer looking for innocent birds. But they leave the two-legged ones alone or even win their affection.

In dogmatic, however large their size, they can match the cat in walking soundlessly. But aroused, sensing danger and nervous they will crash against the dinner table, ricochet off the chair, bump against the table lamp and create a shindig when you are at the last stage of counting sheep before falling asleep.

The cat, on the other hand, will go back to sleep and in rare cases rescue babies when the house catches fire. They are not dogmatic about it. It is part of their indifferent nature. 

The dog will be drooling all over you once you are back home. Not the cat, he will wait to be called. He knows his worth and is much more regal than a  dog.

Another thing about cats is that though they have a keen sense of smell, they don't smell, while dogs do.

In a cat and dog encounter, it is the dog that is more likely to back foot on its butt. A cat raising its hackles is another matter altogether. A few fierce spits thrown in does not encourage the dog one bit. In fact, it doesn't want to get bitten. That's from where the phrase 'once bitten, twice shy' may have originated, but I can't vouch for it.

Dogs are not shy, they can be friendly and aggressive. But once bitten by a cat they seem to go under the spell of chloroform. It takes a few trips to the psychiatrist's couch to restore a pooch's confidence. But the dog can always suffer a relapse. You can't blame the cat for it.

You can choose between cats and dogs. Cats will inevitably accompany you to the loo and keep staring at you till you are ready to step out. The dog is more of an outdoor buff. He keeps his master or mistress on a leash and ensures that they carry a small plastic shovel with them if his bowels come under sudden strain.

Cats love to scratch, so do dogs. But cats like to scratch the new furniture especially since they don't smell their scent on it. Dogs prefer scratching at the door when locked out. They prefer to leave the furniture alone.

Cats are great bird watchers and give you presents if they love you enough. Dogs are bird watchers too; the ones in slacks and tight blouses.

And that's catatonic versus dogmatic.




















Comments

Popular posts from this blog

Sundays

There was a time when I waited for Sunday. After a week of work, and I worked hard, a day of rest  was very welcome. I loved to sleep.  I am not an atheist, and I go to church maybe once a year for  midnight mass on Christmas eve. So I'm not a churchgoer basically. Therefore Sundays did not mean  that I was seated in the pews in church listening to the pastor's sermon.  The pastor, in fact,  would not recognise me until my sister, who goes more often to church, introduced me as her brother  after Christmas Eve mass. I also had a problem sleeping and would lie awake at nights trying desperately trying to fall asleep. I tried counting sheep and it never worked. I also tried those sleeping videos on YouTube. I listened  \ and felt bored. They were not music I was familiar with and they kept my eyelids firmly apart. Even a safe  tranquillizer that my doctor prescribed did not have any effect. The on...

Boredom

Cupid you must have heard of, the impish little fellow with a bow and arrow that is forever shadowing lovers. He has a cousin who is less well known. It is Boredom. He wields a blowpipe with which he wreaks mayhem, shooting darts at people who have little to do but twiddle their thumbs all day. The day came when the office was able to see my boots darken its doorstep for the last time. There was also a chorus wishing me a ‘happy retired life’. I nodded happily all around little knowing what I was letting myself in for.  At home I unpacked the goodbye presents and was thrilled to see that one was a microwave oven and another a dinner set. I also got a box of sweets. My elder daughter immediately confiscated them saying that it was too bad that I could not have them. She does not like sweets either, so I did not know what she did with them. The day after was glorious. The alarm did go off, but I put in on snooze. I put it back on snooze again after it rang. Then I swi...

Cat Chat

“He that fears every grass must not piss in a meadow,” my Cat told me as he chewed contentedly on my slipper. “Is that what you have been doing?” I asked suspiciously. “It’s just an ancient proverb that my grandmother taught me,” he said, “this slipper is good, where have you kept the other one?” “When will you stop snacking on my slippers?” I asked in disgust. “Let me eat them first,” the Cat said contently. “Why don’t you go after the mice?” I asked ind ignantly. “I did, but they got a stay order from PETA,” he said. “They did?” I asked, “then you can approach the International Court of Justice!” “Too far away and I don’t have a passport,” the Cat said continuing to tear the slipper with his teeth and claws. “You can always stow away, can’t you?” I questioned sarcastically. “The Court does not entertain illegal immigrants,” he sighed. “If you are going to eat my slippers, what is the point of getting cat food?” I asked ann oyed. “Var...