Christmas Is All Around Us

I have finally finished reading Barbara Kingsolver’s book Animal, Vegetable, Miracle (review to come soon), and I’m excited to get to move on to some lighter reading. And since one good obsession deserves another, I’m moving from food and farming to…kitties!

I claimed an old paperback copy of Tailchaser’s Song that I found mainly because I was highly amused by the idea of a novel about cats. I didn’t realize I was getting myself into something so serious. Turns out Tailchaser has quite the fan club, and the novel itself is brimming with invented cat mythology, cat language, cat geography,  cat bravado, and funny cat names. It is rumored that it is being made into an animated film. It will be interesting to compare Tailchaser’s Song with Watership Down, which is the only other fictional novel I have read thus far in 2011.

I haven’t gotten into the meat of the story yet (still just starting on the introduction), but I wanted to share a poem from the very first pages of the book that I thought was clever, and indicative of all the things that cat-lovers love about cats.

This poem is written by an 18th century poet named Christopher Smart. Smart reportedly spent a substantial amount of his life in an asylum, after which he spent his last days in debtor’s prison. He wrote under names such as Kitty Smart, Mrs. Mary Midnight, and Ebenezer Pentweazle. This is his tribute to cats:

For I will consider my cat…

For at the first glance of the glory of God

            in the East he worships in his way.

For this is done by wreathing his body seven

            times around with elegant quickness…

For having done duty and received blessing

            he begins to consider himself.

For this he performs in ten degrees.

For first he looks upon his fore-paws to see

            if they are clean.

For secondly he kicks up behind to clear away there.

For thirdly he works it upon the stretch with

            the fore-paws extended.

For fourthly he sharpens his paws by wood.

For fifthly he washes himself.

For sixthly he rolls upon wash.

For seventhly he fleas himself, that he may

            not be interrupted on the beat.

For eighthly he rubs himself against a post.

For ninthly he looks up for his instructions.

For tenthly he goes in quest of food…

For when his day’s work is done his business

            more properly begins.

For he keeps the Lord’s watch in the night

            against the adversary.

For he counteracts the powers of darkness by

            his electrical skin and glaring eyes.

For he counteracts the Devil, who is death,

            by brisking about the life.

For in his morning orisons he loves the sun

            and the sun loves him.

For he is of the tribe of Tiger.

For Cherub Cat is a term of the Angel

            Tiger…

For there is nothing sweeter than his peace

            when at rest.

For there is nothing brisker than his life

            when in motion

For God has blessed him in the variety of

            his movements…

For he can tread to all the measures upon the music…

—Christopher Smart

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