The Cat's Meowmoirs

 

After years of prodding, months of preening, weeks of posturing, days of primping, hours of pluming, minutes of producing, and seconds of procrastinating, my cat has decided to write her memoirs. Well, not exactly. The manuscript is already written and all that’s needed now is a willing publisher (which we think we have in Random Mouse). It’s been shoved away in the bottom of a desk drawer packed with toys, treats and the intrusive spider exploring the four corners of a file cabinet. The title is still, like a tantalizing ball of yarn, very much up in the air. Paw Prints, Bite Marks, C is for Cat, Hairballin’. For what it’s worth, I’m partial to Scratchin’.

I haven’t had much involvement in the writing process despite my supposed mastery of the language. So my role was largely ceremonial, getting the opportunity to read the book at the same time as her more famous, celebrity friends. Clooney, Pitt, and one of those well-fed witmen wheezingly waddling to the couch of a low-rated late-night show. 

The stories within the manuscript are standard feline fare – why drink water when you can sleep, showers versus licking oneself, plus a compelling case for attending grad school. While it’s territory that’s been treaded before, I think my cat has a different angle, one deserving an audience. The trouble is that animal memoirs fail unless they capture a large portion of the pet population. Basically, if dogs don’t read it, you’re finished. You might as well go home and play with your shoelaces. 

This is all well and good in theory, but I don’t speak dog, my cat doesn’t speak dog. So we did the only sensible thing – we hired a dog to translate the manuscript to reach a broader segment of the populace. Had I known what this would stir up I never would’ve suggested it. You have to understand, that in the cat community, selling out means involving a dog in any way in something you're doing. That’s all it takes. I found this great translator Rex Van Dogk– half dog, half Dutch. But that apparently wasn’t good enough to appease my cat’s detractors. They still dragged her through the mud, which as a cat, she enjoyed immensely. But that’s hardly the point. The principle is that it should’ve never happened like this. The publisher walked away after the kerfuffle, having no stomach for controversy.

I even had to stop writing this to play with her, hoping to take her mind off the events of the last week. She’ll get over it, having already accepted that the best the book can do is achieve cult status among a curious human contingent. Do cats and dogs really hate each other or is that another lie sold to us by Hollywood and Madison Avenue? She’ll get over it, cats usually do. In fact, she’s already onto the next project. Aren’t cats resilient? She’s just cornered a moth in the cupboard. Hope she has better luck getting it than getting published.