According to the 1986 World Book Encyclopedia, about forty million cats are kept as pets in the United States. About two million cats park their kitty litter in Canada. The Ancient Egyptians considered cats sacred. They worshipped a goddess of love and fertility, represented as having the head of a cat and the body of a woman. Egyptians even went as far as punishment laws for harming cats. If an individual killed a cat, he also would be killed. Finally, Egyptians even mummified their precious pets. But, I also heard from a somewhat reliable source that cats were skinned, fried and baked in a pillow of cornmeal. This, my source explained, is where we get the expression, “corn cats”.

If you feed a cat seven times a week and change its litter twice, you may have noticed something strange. No, not in the litter-box! I'm talking about your pet! You know the one: the cuddly fur-ball that walks on all fours and leaves delightful clumps of hair all over your upholstery. Felines amaze me each day with their ability to somehow capture our attention without losing that innocent and unique quality all of us owners have come to know and love. Maybe their lack of loquacity has something to do with it. Then again, maybe not.

ME: “Good evening, Muffins, why are you on my dinner table? Hey! I was gonna eat that!”

MUFFINS: “I couldn't sleep. If you don't give me a can of tuna and one billion dollars, I will be forced to lick your plate and thus spread evil kitty germs 'til you lose any appetite you once possessed.” (He said all of this in a British accent. I'm not making this up! Just try to imagine.)
 

Among other gifts, the kitties I associate with often leave long bloody scratches on my arm. What are they trying to accomplish? As if they expect us to say, "Oh, how cute, come to daddy!" I don't think so. Not in this life anyway. Still a PHENOMENON has recently altered my outlook. This particular incident came as a surprise, although I was aware that my cat had been watching television for about three years now. (Every Tuesday. He even knows how to turn it on!) Nothing could prepare me for this event, an outrage. Now that I built up the suspense, I'll give ya’ the facts.
I was lying in bed one night when I heard what sounded like two grandmothers mud-wrestling: screeching, screaming, and biting. Grandma? I dashed to my window and pulled up the shade. A very peculiar site met my eye. A miniature wrestling ring had fallen from the sky and was sitting in the back yard of my neighbor’s house. Oh! And there were those cute little carpeted kitty igloo houses: about four stacks of two. A pack of neighborhood kitties looked on as two particular tomcats battled. I saw everything: the litter-box body-slam, the frisky drop kick, even the catnip headlock! Lumpy Butt seemed, to me, the leader of the pack. He wore a black Velcro belt, inscribed upon the over-sized buckle were the three giant golden letters. NKO.
"Oh, Jumpin’ Jesus on a Pogo Stick!”
I had uncovered the New Kitty Order: professional feline wrestling!
……well, I closed the shade. Then went back to bed.

Ever since that day, I have looked at my cat differently: more out of fear than respect. But the two go hand in hand. Maybe the Ancient Egyptians were on to something. Who knows, maybe history will repeat itself, and the cat goddess will rule once again. Well, my shelves are stocked with tuna cans. And in closing I would like all of you to consider a single question:

It's 11pm; do you know where your kitty is?