I turned over the cat care pamphlets one by one, observing their cover art with amusement. “Traveling With Your Cat” showed a scarved feline at the driver’s seat of a sports car. “Easy Ways to Housetrain Your Cat” had kitty with an apron on, cheerfully wielding a vacuum cleaner. I was reminded of Amy’s habit of inventing schemes carried out by her cats in her absence.
“Cats must inspire more anthropomorphism than any other animal,” I thought aloud. “Maybe it’s just that cat owners are a particularly rare breed. Or maybe I just have a weird girlfriend.”
Amy, curious at first, became more so as mention of her entered into this reverie. “Anthropowhat?” she asked.
“Morphism,” I repated, already having second thoughts about subjecting an old mutual diversion to scrutiny. “Maybe best not to open this can of peas,” I ventured. Realizing it was too late to turn back, I continued: “The tendency to attribute human characteristics to non-human species.”
Amy thought, then laughed, then frowned. “Oh, come now, you do that too.”
“I know, and I’m not utting it down! Look at all the cartoon and comic strip cats: Courageous Cat, Top Cat, Krazy Kat, Fritz, Heathcliff, Garfield. I think it’s because they’re so serene and deadpan that we can’t resist projecting this profound cleverness onto ’em.”
I smiled at Amy and hoped she’d never stop calling her cat, Raisin, “The President of CAK: Cats Against Kisses.”