Two events brought to mind the term “Cat People.” I never saw the movie but the poster seemed appropriate to illustrate my point. Apparently, cat people hold to a belief that they are cats. This is in defiance of common sense and nature. In other words liberals.

First there is the continuing occupation of Seattle. According to the “people’s liberation forces,” it is okay to loot and burn other people’s shit. It is not okay when it happens to them.

The second event occurred the other day when I took steps to feed the cat. I’m not a cat person. I inherited my mother’s cat when my father decided to move. I discovered that cat’s have definite ideas about how things ought to be. Take feeding.

There is always dry food in her bowl, even when she decides that it is empty. The food bowl is empty when she can see the bottom of the bowl. It doesn’t matter how much food remains in the bowl. If she can see the bottom, the bowl is empty.

Sounds like a democrat. No matter how much there is, it is never enough. Immediate gratification doesn’t happen fast enough.

In the morning, the cat gets a dollop of canned food, basted with chicken broth. My father started this. Up until he did, the cat didn’t know any better. Now that she has had a taste of the good life, nobody is safe until breakfast has been served. “No (chicken) Pieces No Peace.”

Did I mention that the dry and canned food can not be commingled? The basted canned food must be served in a four inch square dish. It cannot be presented in a ramekin, or a saucer, or in a companion cat food dish. Food presented in that manner is unfit to be served.

The other day I walked by the cat’s food bowl and noticed that I could see the bottom. Rather than wait for the imperial summons, I took it upon myself to fill the bowl voluntarily.

I scooped up some dry food and headed for the feeding station. The cat appeared out of nowhere to supervise. I might get it wrong. Her suspicions were justified. I dumped the dry food onto the empty wet food dish. The cat let out a squall accompanied by tail twitching. I thought that I had stepped on her. I quickly rectified the situation by dumping the dry food into its proper bowl. My efforts were just barely acceptable. The cat walked away, disgusted with the whole affair.

I’m hoping she forgave me. I’ll settle for forget. I’m a slave to the gastronomical impulses of an animal that licks her own butt, in lieu of after dinner mints.

Free food, free lodging, free medical, no work, sleep eighteen hours a day, my God! I just discovered my cat is a liberal democrat.