Cats are very like politicians

Only cats and politicians can make war and whoopee at the same time, was how a legendary former politician used to describe the intricacies of political fighting and infighting.


I was reminded of this a while back when my neighbour’s ginger cat came courting my tomcat. There I was, alone in the garden with my boy, when the ginger swaggered towards us. To be honest, she does turn heads with her sleek body. She also has a slightly overbearing, emancipated look – the kind that makes mild-mannered men beak out in a sweat while their wives dig their nails into their forearms. I immediately called my boy closer. Having raised him with conservative values, I was, however, mortified to notice that he had eyes only for the ginger. Don’t…

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I was reminded of this a while back when my neighbour’s ginger cat came courting my tomcat. There I was, alone in the garden with my boy, when the ginger swaggered towards us. To be honest, she does turn heads with her sleek body. She also has a slightly overbearing, emancipated look – the kind that makes mild-mannered men beak out in a sweat while their wives dig their nails into their forearms.

I immediately called my boy closer. Having raised him with conservative values, I was, however, mortified to notice that he had eyes only for the ginger. Don’t think for a moment she was coy about her visit. She walked straight up to my boy, head-butted him hard enough to get his adrenalin flowing and then slowly, sensually drew her tail across his eyes. Instantly, he was mesmerised, ready to do cartwheels or jump through hoops.

As if on command, he started his “war” dance, growling and groaning, begging and threatening at the same time. I called it his war dance, because at that moment, a young mother and her seven-year-old boy walked past, apparently taking their puppy for a stroll. The trio noticed the cats. “Look, the cats are fighting!” yelled the boy. The woman blushed, her red face contrasted even more against her blue shirt. She jerked the leash so hard, the puppy did a somersault. The boy remained rooted to the spot.

“They’re not fighting,” I said, positioning myself between the boy and the cats. “They’re politicking. “There’s a cat election coming up,” I continued, “and those cats are both politicians. We don’t know if they’re canvassing or lobbying, but your mom will explain it all to you when you grow up.

The blush made way for a smile as the woman handed me a pamphlet. She wasn’t just out for a stroll. She was also canvassing.

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