What Is It To Be Feline? Show Off Your Household Philosopurrs!

[MistyDawn]

Alaska is doing some introspection as he goes through his "teenage" months. He knows he is a Maine Coon. He knows he is to follow in his father's pawprints and create Maine Coons. But, what defines a Maine Coon? Does it originate from within, or without? Is a Maine Coon decided by the size of his body, the size of his chin and lynx tips, or the size of his heart? Of what consequence is the 10-15 pounds that separates him from "other" cats, compared to the infinite splendor yet dwarfing emptiness of the cosmos? Maybe Maine Coon is simply a box, not the comfy and homey boxes that cats prefer, but the abstract yet rigid definitions humans try and conform all things to, when cats understand that most things are much more complex than the sticker labels humans slap on their strange and controlling boxes of definitions. Does he fit in the box? Is it comfy? Don't humans, in their own way, also like the same material boxes as cats? After all, did they not invent the first box? Do they not make their dens, run really fast, and catch their food, in boxes? What made the first box a box? Why did humans choose this shape? Why do boxes call to human and cat alike? Is the box divine? Who's Solid Snake?

Extra points as to a guess about what concepts your cat is digesting. The more creative, the better. Think with us and our cats.

 

[golondrina]

Sombra is showing an increasing intelectual interest in the daily news. Herewith reading the announcements on the newspaper's first page.

 

[Katie M]

Selene seems to be the thinker of the two.

 

[golondrina]

Sombra consulting the dictionary for a better understanding of her reading.

 

[1CatOverTheLine]

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Moo Shu is just like any other cat - curious. Here she contemplates the cryptographic enigma of Francesco de Colonna's Hypnerotomachia Poliphili, as scholars have done for more than half a millennium before her:

 

[KarenKat]

I am a pet. An indoor creature, and this house is my territory. But I feel the call, the wild animal of my ancestors desires to run and hunt and rest in the shade of the trees. The sun summons me and beckons me to the wide world.

And yet I know I will not survive. The knife-edge of the raw beast has been dulled with domestication. We have forgone the wild forests and fields for cozy beds and 24-hour room service. We have settled for the sunbeams that glance in through the windows and skylights. The world outside is now too large, and I cannot take its expanse.

... I wonder if the field mice taste of kibble.

 

[kittypa]

I will speak at the end of my vision quest and not before.