And before you worry, this post has nothing in the least to do with kitten juggling, although it is a little-known fact that I currently hold the world's record for keeping 8 Persians aloft through 47 complete cycles, or 'jugs' as they are called in the juggling profession. Unfortunately video evidence of the entire award-winning performance was tragically destroyed in a records fire in a small Brooklyn warehouse, along with my plaque and Certificate Of Commendation And All Around Good Showmanship With A Feline, but hey, that's the breaks, right?
So. On to Cat Pouring.
I'm a cat person. Always have been. I like dogs just fine, but cats are where it's at, in my opinion. I know how the emperor of legend felt when he cut off the sleeve of his priceless robe, to keep from waking a sleeping kitten. So, when it comes time for me to carry a cat, I do it with the utmost care and consideration for the cat's feelings and comfort. Some of our cats don't like to be carried, some do and relax entirely into it, becoming in essence a fur-covered hot water bottle, and some are semi-comfortable with the carryings on and prefer to stand. Either way, they all know that when I return them to earth I am not simply going to dump them like a bad habit.
It is my view that there are several ways to put a cat down, and mine is preferable over all. I have seen people who simply drop cats, relying on their natural instinct to land on their feet to carry the day. I have seen people who feel that plonking them down onto all fours is preferable. I've even met people who think that it's unnatural and undesirable to even carry a cat, thereby relieving them the need to face the inevitable, if you'll excuse the expression, let down.
I think they're all full of poppycock and rubbish.
The simplest, easiest, and most pleasurable for all concerned method of lowering a cat to the ground is to pour them. It is a process that is performed just as it sounds--simply by holding the cat by the ribs gently, I let them hang from my hands about two feet off the ground, then let them very slowly slip out of my fingers. The result is a cat who quickly learns to trust the fact that I am not going to throw them down, so they reach their front legs out waiting for the floor to touch their pads, and their body flows out of my hands like water. Watching them pour out like so much soft wax, watching the flow and ripple of muscles in my thin-coated cats and the ruffle and blow of my thick-coated cat is, for me, one of the best rewards of cat pouring. And of course, the sensation is like running your hands down a fine fur coat, only the coat is running across your hands instead of the other way around.
And don't ask me why I wanted to write about this today--it's one of the subjects that survived a computer lock-up this morning at work. And for some reason I really REALLY wanted to write about cat juggling. So yup, blame the job and incipient insanity for it. I blogged most of this at 7:30 this morning before work on my workstation, and the blamed thing decided in mid-blog to simply seizure, so I had to wait another 13 hours before I could get back to it.
Ah, the life of a writer.
So go, pour your cats a few times. Enjoy the sensations. Learn how cool it is to have your cat trust you not to spill them like a bag of rice.