Since I began writing for Eagle Rising, back in September of this year, I have been thinking quite a bit about politicians. Actually, I have been thinking about politicians more than I really want to think about them, and I have come to one astounding conclusion. I like my cats a whole lot better than I like politicians.
For one thing, my cats don’t demand much in the way of variety in their food. But their food is expensive. My favorite cat, which happens to be a 14 year old Siamese named Little Cat, has chronic kidney problems so we have to buy a certain kind of food for him that is only available at the vet’s. We can’t go out for bids for his food. We can only buy his food from a single source supplier. Come to think about it, that’s quite a bit the way a lot of government spending works.
I referred to Little Cat as “him.” Actually he’s not quite a “him.” He’s more like an “almost him.” And that’s the way most politicians are, at least most of them that I am familiar with. I have yet to meet very many politicians who have any b***s.
But Little Cat is not the only cat I have. I have two others. My ten year old Persian cat, Coby, talks to me. I don’t really speak cat, so I’m never sure what he’s saying, but he opens his mouth and out comes a string of–what I suppose is–words or at least his thoughts. I meow back at him and we stand there yowling at one another for quite a while and nothing is really said in any language I know of. Again, that’s the way most politicians are, they talk and talk. Their constituents talk and talk back at them. It’s like we don’t speak the same language. Nothing gets accomplished. Nothing gets settled. Nothing changes. It’s like they’ve been blowing a lot of hot air. But Coby’s a nice fellow, and he lets me rub his neck and feed him treats.
My third cat is a four year old dark calico female cat. She’s small and very cuddly. She likes to curl up in my lap when I’m watching television. Sometimes she jumps up on me while I’m writing my column for Eagle Rising and makes it difficult for me to do my creative work. (If you ever notice an error in my writing, you’ll understand that it’s because Ivey has been messing around while I was working.) Early in the morning when I go to the kitchen to make my coffee, she starts rubbing around my ankles. Back and forth; around and around she goes until I pay attention to her. Then I know that her food bowl is empty and I stop what I’m doing and fill it. Now, isn’t that just like a politician? He or she will be so very friendly and rub around on you–at least figuratively speaking–until you give up and pay attention to him or her and send in a donation just before election time.
All in all, though, I think I do like my cats better than most of the politicians I know about, and they probably do much less damage to my way of life.
The views expressed in this opinion article are solely those of their author and are not necessarily either shared or endorsed by EagleRising.com