The Lord High Kitty of Congress Street

You see, I have this cat.

I've mentioned him before, Sebastian is his name. He came to me as a furred consolation when a relationship - the only time I've tried to live with someone who wasn't myself - didn't work out.

I suppose I should have known better - as many of my close (if that's really applicable to me) friends can attest I often have quite a problematic time living with myself as it is - much less another human being.

But this extraordinary cat seems able to tolerate me.

There is a counter-melody in my first published anthem that he generated by walking on the keys of my old PC88 - it took a little fettling but the piece sold so I guess he's pulling his weight. His share of the kitty litter comes out of the royalties.

I pay for my own part of the litter we use.

He has adapted quite well to the new digs. The pad you see in the pic is a special electrostatic (so says the pack) one that attracts dander and loose hair. It seems to work and he took to it with surprising ease.

It's a much smaller place that my old one and I try to let him wander in the hallway when I can. He prowls the hall, not scratching because he has a big chair at home to scratch up (I consider removing a cat's claws a form of abuse).

A lot of the time - especially at night - he roosts on his pad in the windowsill, watching the traffic, the people and the birds go by. I think if the window could be opened - and it can't - the lucky passersby below would look up and see a blur of black flying out of the window to crash onto hapless seagulls flying harmlessly down Congress Street, thence to thud onto the street and wander off in a daze, while in the distance, by the elevator back to the fifth floor you'd see a black streak and hear a cackle of high-pitched meows ....

Banzai Kitty. Just to mess with the seagull's heads.

Or at least that's what I imagine he's imagining. Hard to tell with some cats.

"Feed me" is pretty clear. He's a very vocal feline. Good one for a composer to have. I remember him barking at squirrels through the window when we lived down by Deering's Oaks.

Didn't know he was bi-lingual - damned smart cat.

So it does a misanthrope like myself good to sit and try to imagine what's going on in another creature's head. So many imaginings we have of the interior lives of others is just a projected reflection of what's going on inside of ours.

The saving grace is the ability to know that what we are seeing is a reflection - not a reality. It's fortunate I can know the difference. It sometimes takes me a while to admit it but I was raised with too much respect and desire for Truth to ignore it successfully for very long.

I learn so much from other people.

And from cats.