In ancient Egypt cats were gods. According to their public art and stuff. Here’s a statue of a cat goddess.
There is a cat on this royal sarcophogus. Bas relief chiseled into stone. What’s that about?
Cats were not only worshipped but when they died, they were embalmed, given their own coffin and buried in a cat cemetery. There was definitely something going on with cats back there in the old BC days of ancient Egypt.
Maybe it was their ability to catch mice that vaulted them into such a high station. Protecting the royal granaries was certainly a priority and a sacred job, I suppose, essential for the well being of the city.
Maybe it was their precocious look and their ESP abilities. Cats seem on the verge of speaking human language sometimes and still can revert back to the ancient ESP language of all things (that so far has escaped us the humans). Unless you can get in touch with your own inner ESP, much of cat language will be lost to you, that’s what I’ve discovered.
They used to be sacred, I know, but now they’re everywhere, there’s a whole tribe of them taking over my backyard. I’m a little concerned.
Right now there are 3 cats, maybe 4 including the black one that just started showing up, sneaking in at night and then disappearing into the dark. He has no name because he’s not part of the tribe. The tribe consists of Bob, the big furry calico who showed up a year ago, Betos, who I brought home from the shelter to befriend Kybo who lost her playmate in a traffic accident only to discover that he hated Kybo. How did I know? Even after Kybo beat on him a couple times, jumped him and paw slapped him, he still didn’t like her.
Kybo, the Patron Saint of the tribe, the matriarch, the matron, she who holds forth from the inside going outside on patrol only when necessary to survey the grounds and inspect the various forms of life living there. She is compassionate to the raccoons, the opossum and the resident cats but attacks and eats the doves who flutter down from their roost in the hackberry trees to drink and eat. Anoles, same deal, the little green lizards that live around here. I haven’t been able to reason with her. She’s a cat.
And White Tail, the newest cat to move in and start eating at the table like she was one of the gang. White Tail is why I’m writing this post. She is going to the vet so there won’t be any outbreaks of kittens around here. Old Bastet from ancient Egypt was also the goddess of fertility. Cats can have babies at 4 months. They can have up to 8 kittens in a litter and can give birth 3 times a year.
That’s what I learned from the San Antonio Feral Cat Coalition. They lent me the trap and informed me of where I could take this semi-feral cat to get it fixed. That’ll fix it.
But why do they keep showing up here? The San Antonio Feral Cat Coalition has a trap, neuter and return program (TNR). It’s their attempt to control the burgeoning cat population in this city. The idea is if you return the fixed cat to where you got it then not only will it be unable to reproduce but it will claim a territory and prevent other cats from moving in. That obviously doesn’t work. If they’re marking this territory it’s to say ‘Hi, welcome. Come join our tribe. Plenty of Meow Mix for everyone around here.”
I learned about the SAFCC from a guy in Brackenridge Park who was feeding the feral cats who live there. People dump off pets they don’t want, apparantly, in the park and now there is a whole colony of them. They TNR and then feed them.
It’s a mystery where these cats come from, the ones in my neighborhood, and why they choose my place to hang out. Well except for little Kybo. I brought her here after I discovered her sitting in the middle of the street in the middle of the night all alone. She was a tiny little kitten, almost run over by a passing car. I couldn’t believe it. What was I supposed to do?
I had never had a cat before, only a dog, but I knew I was supposed to get her fixed. Traumatic for the cat but otherwise . . . you know. I have seen people living in a house with dozens of cats camped out in the yard. So anyways I made the appointment and the morning I was supposed to take her in I noticed she was acting funny. I thought maybe she intuits that I’m going to take her to the vet and is stressed out. So I postponed the appointment, then I noticed a strange little sound coming from under the covers of my bed and upon lifting the blankets discovered a tiny kitten. Kybo had given birth during the night in my bed to one small blind little kitten.
I was thrilled actually, not having had any kids myself I felt like a first time parent. Sort of. Kybo was a beautiful mother, nurturing and loving her little baby. For some reason, however, the kitten died just a few days later. It was so sad. Painful. That’s when I went out and got another kitten, a surrogate baby, Tee Tah, and those two became buddies, licking each other and hanging out together.
Then Tee Tah got killed by a car. Super sad and Kybo was lonely. Hmm, what to do? So I went to the shelter to look for a playmate for Kybo. The shelter is weird. All the attractive pets - cute puppies and playful kittens etc were like a hundred and fifty dollars, two hundred dollars. Like what? Then there was this one cat all alone and looking sad sitting in an enclosure, not playing with its toys or doing anything. It had a bad eye and was missing a tooth. I was told it had been dropped off because the lady couldn’t deal with it. Hmm. I continued walking around the shelter looking at all the animals for adoption, looking for someone who would be a good companion for Kybo but I couldn’t get that cat out of my mind, it looked so miserable.
I ended up adopting it for like thirty dollars or something and bringing it home. I named him Betos after the Texas politician from El Paso who has no chance of getting elected in this red state but keeps trying anyway.
I soon learned why the lady couldn’t deal with this cat. He was friendly to me but wanted nothing to do with Kybo. He couldn’t grok the idea of kitty litter and kept pooing in the most inauspicious places. Like on top of books and in boxes and on rugs. Oh god. He would also freak out while preening himself and go into an epileptic seizure of some sort, tear his fur out and pee uncontrollably everywhere. I kicked him out of the house.
I don’t think he’d ever been outside before. He was amazed at all the new wonderful things to see and smell. He would sit in one spot and gaze for hours at the world with few cares and no anxiety. I did have to admire that. Kinda god-like infact. Ok.
Kybo does that too. I wrote a whole chapter of my book trying to imitate Kybo’s meditative repose, just sitting quietly on the back porch and listening, being receptive to what nature was telling me. Hmm. Yeah. So kinda god-like in a cat kind of a way I guess.
So little White Tail, who is going to the vet soon, and Bob the fluffy one who lives under the house and can survive the winter there and Kybo and Betos and the ominous black one skittering around the edge of the light zone where the Meow Mix resides are some sort of a . . . something, not sure what. Not sure why.
White Tail showed up the other day with a collar hanging loosely around her neck. What? She didn’t have that before. Then she ditched it, figured it wasn’t necessary I guess. Now she has no collar.
Kybo can speak in English words sometimes. I’ve heard her. Once she came in the door when I opened it for her and she said “tankoo” in her meowy voice. I was startled. And then one time she was hanging around me, meowing and wanting pets when I was trying to meditate and I told her simply, “I’m trying to meditate now.” She said “ok”, again in her meowy voice but perfectly distinct and left me alone. I don’t know what to think about that. I can’t believe she speaks English but I heard her saying stuff.
So anyways that’s my story of cats. They are mysterious and have their own feline agendas, not always apparent to us humans. Worse things could happen to me than getting invaded by cats and probably will. I’m just a simple human with my own agendas, trying to stay warm and fed. Trying to stay out of the confusion and complications of modern life.
Maybe that’s what the Egyptians liked about cats - their aloofness. Their ability to adapt and accept whatever circumstances may arrive. They do meow alot but I don’t know if that’s complaining or just . . . letting you know, hey I’m a cat, I’m here.
Thanks to NATURRITU for the playlist: 2:18:30
cats