RIVER CITY JOURNAL: CAT WITH NO NAME STILL RULES THE ROOST

The cat still has no name. On the official records at the veterinarian's office, she is known as Velcro. That's because her claws are so long and sharp that she sticks to everything she touches: carpeting, rugs, clothing, bedspreads, furniture. That's also why she gets regular visits to the vet for a perm and pedicure. The bath gets rid of some of the dander to which your wife is so allergic, and the pedicure momentarily unsticks the cat's paws.

Someone asked the other day if you had taught the cat any tricks. It was immediately obvious, of course, that the questioner didn't know anything at all about cats. You don't teach cats to do cute things like dogs or parakeets or boa constrictors.

Cats, for those who are uninitiated, teach humans, particularly those with whom they live.

It's a fact: More humans have been taught to do something by a cat that there are trained horses. You can look that up. If you don't find it in your reference book, don't come whining. Just accept the fact that cats are bossy by design, not by accident.

Your cat, for example, has taught two reasonably intelligent humans not to leave the kitchen -- ever -- without adding something to the catfood dish. Unfortunately, the cat went from a respectable 8 pounds to a whopping 14 pounds in just a few months. Not good, the vet said. So now the cat eats a high-fiber, low-calorie, scientifically formulated dry food so she can keep a trim waistline.

The new food seems to be working. The cat no longer waddles as she trots down the hall. There are still some folds of luxuriant fur that drape almost to the floor, but there isn't anything that can be done about that.

The cat also joins its human masters (a joshing word choice, of course) at the kitchen table at mealtime. She sits on her own chair and closely observes everything. However, she refuses to eat anything that doesn't come out of the catfood bag or go into the catfood dish. She is a constant reminder to everyone that binge eating -- particularly off the floor -- can have dire consequences. You and your wife have lost a lot of pounds in the process.

The cat has a strong herding instinct. Whenever two people are doing different things in different rooms, the cat expends considerable effort to get both people in the same room at the same time doing the same thing. She is really the most content if both humans are sitting in their recliners and not stirring about. Then she can do what cats do best: sleep.

Whenever your wife waters the many houseplants, the cat supervises. When anyone uses the home computer, the cat adopts the keyboard. Whenever a bed is made, the cat inspects every crease and fold. Whenever a suitcase is packed, the cat tests the load factor. Whenever an empty box is laying about, the cat fills it up.

In fact, this cat is like any other cat. Any cat owner knows that a cat is smarter, more cunning, shrewder, more curious and considerably more inventive than any human alive.

As a matter of fact, your cat probably has a vocabulary of some 200 to 300 words. But here's what makes the cat so smart: She understands everything you say, but she wisely never utters a word.

It's as if a dying cat's words would be, if it ever chose to talk: "You guys were a lot dumber than I thought you would be."

And it would be the truth too.

* * * * *

By the way, a thoughtful reader shared the following cute cat story:

"We are cat lovers too. Our daughter who is an art teacher named her new cat (what else?) Claude Monet. She had to have its little toenails removed, and now he is De-Claude Monet."

~R. Joe Sullivan is the editor of the Southeast Missourian.