As I read before reaching the part of your epiphany, it was obvious to me Lenny belonged out there. Like a prize fighter getting up for the next round despite being battered and maybe even beaten. Brawlers do what that they do. And so it is with cats. Cats are simply elegant and delicate, and brutal and vicious at the same time. They're the epitome of liberty. A metaphor for freedom. Sovereign power personified. It's what makes them enchanting - and so fucking bad ass.
These were lessons in sovereignty, indeed; your comment’s spot-on. Though I loved this cat, fundamentally, this is an allegory about freedom to live fully, on the edge, with presence and grace, with no regard to longevity as a twisted end in itself. To be clear, we never tried to make a house cat out of him; he always came and went as he pleased. That night was different, or so it seemed, as his life hung by a thread (risk of sepsis). Not wanting him to die had me subjecting him to my will “for his own good”—but then, plot twist!, he easily outran me in a cold snap. I play up my own idiocy in the anecdote for comedic effect, but the fracture between “hierarchy and hubris indoors” and “outdoor return to natural order” was instant, the shock of it very real.
Meanwhile, I was at the cottage putting myself at a safer distance—psychologically, at least—from people (supposedly) hell-bent on extending my life at all costs. The irony here’s just phenomenal in retrospect, LOL…
Having grown up with cats, and now with birds, I can say that we do not have pets, we do not own other species. We have companions; we can help them out, we can care for them, when needed.
Lenny was your companion, which meant that he had the freedom to come and go as he desired. Your story confirmed what we humans ought to understand. Cooperation and compassion is better than competition and domination.
As I read before reaching the part of your epiphany, it was obvious to me Lenny belonged out there. Like a prize fighter getting up for the next round despite being battered and maybe even beaten. Brawlers do what that they do. And so it is with cats. Cats are simply elegant and delicate, and brutal and vicious at the same time. They're the epitome of liberty. A metaphor for freedom. Sovereign power personified. It's what makes them enchanting - and so fucking bad ass.
These were lessons in sovereignty, indeed; your comment’s spot-on. Though I loved this cat, fundamentally, this is an allegory about freedom to live fully, on the edge, with presence and grace, with no regard to longevity as a twisted end in itself. To be clear, we never tried to make a house cat out of him; he always came and went as he pleased. That night was different, or so it seemed, as his life hung by a thread (risk of sepsis). Not wanting him to die had me subjecting him to my will “for his own good”—but then, plot twist!, he easily outran me in a cold snap. I play up my own idiocy in the anecdote for comedic effect, but the fracture between “hierarchy and hubris indoors” and “outdoor return to natural order” was instant, the shock of it very real.
Meanwhile, I was at the cottage putting myself at a safer distance—psychologically, at least—from people (supposedly) hell-bent on extending my life at all costs. The irony here’s just phenomenal in retrospect, LOL…
"We will extend your life even if we have to kill you to achieve it."
We were swimming in those waters. Heck, we're still swimming in those waters.
Eckshpert: "We must put people in prison to protect them."
I loved this story.
Having grown up with cats, and now with birds, I can say that we do not have pets, we do not own other species. We have companions; we can help them out, we can care for them, when needed.
Lenny was your companion, which meant that he had the freedom to come and go as he desired. Your story confirmed what we humans ought to understand. Cooperation and compassion is better than competition and domination.
100%. Thanks, Perry!