Of Cats, Calamities and Kubrick
My cat, Benson (and it’s not cause he’s black…my kids named him after a character on The Regular Show [<<<AWESOME!] not the Robert Guillaume 80’s vehicle) was completely enthralled by a quavering spot of light on the ceiling today. It was the reflection of the sun off of the coffee in my coffee cup, but he was completely hypnotized by it. He kept trying to get higher and higher to get a closer look. This went on for hours, until I moved the coffee cup to a different spot (just because not to fuck with him) and the swirling vortex of beautiful light disappeared. He freaked a bit. He’s a very friendly and playful cat, not yet adult, but I’d hesitate to say he was lovey (though he has his moments when he’ll just hop up on you and curl up, they’re rare…he’d more likely tried to fuck with you to play). After about 10 seconds I felt little paws tapping me on my leg and my hand, and his pleading little face looking up at me as if to say “bring back the sun, sir”. I felt so bad, I immediately returned the coffee cup to its place and brought back the pretty pretty lights. All was well with the world and Benson got up on the table and reveled in its magic.
It made me think, besides the cuteness of it all, of 20o1: A Space Odyssey for some reason. What must it have been like the first time some hominid realized the sun went down and it was dark? Or their newly acquired fire went out (a la Quest for Fire). It must have been terrifying.
And in turn, what kind of god must I be to have brought back said sun? Not much apparently, cause the little shit still steals my money off my nightstand (and it’s not cause he’s black), shits out of the litter box, and for some reason is fascinated by watching me get dressed out of the shower. If only I could parley my talent for reigniting his sun into making the little fucker behave.