Grabbin’ Pussies

I’ve been mulling the topic of pussy grabbing for several months, ever since the current President apparently bragged that this technique of endearment was successful for him. I’ve avoided the details of his recorded comments on the subject but I’m very skeptical that this claim is totally true, not that he would lie or anything.

The Clown has long been a person who has owned or lived around pussy cats. It has been my experience that “grabbin’ pussies” in any sort of aggressive way is not a good way to engender a positive response from the pussy. Nay, just the opposite. Pussy cats are drawn to people who are predictable in movement, gentle of touch and somewhat soft of voice. Cats prefer people with slow hands, warm laps and who know how to operate a can opener, not necessarily in that order. Maybe it’s just me, but that description wouldn’t suggest that the current President is truly a pussy person. One would be very surprised to learn, for instance, that the White House has transferred any cat boxes from New York. However, if they have, these feline toilets are sure to be the best ones anyone has ever seen, magnificent examples of what cat boxes can be and I’ve seen a lot of truly marvelous cat boxes. Believe me.

In the Clown’s current living arrangements there are three pussy cats and one dog, a sweet if somewhat excitable Australian cattle dog, Ellen Barkin, of whom I’ve written in the past.

Two of the cats, which came as part of a pre-nuptial agreement, are of the Ragdoll breed. This breed is famous for three things: (1) being roughly the color of Siamese, but with long hair, (2) maturing to enormous size and (3) a having a complete lack of offensive or defensive instincts. The over-all result is a large, attractive cat that is completely useless for all cat duties except curling up on the furniture and leaving great swaths of white hair to be collected by anyone foolish enough to wear black and sit down. Mousers they are not. Anything larger than a medium-sized roach scares them. Clearly, they are not aggressive, they are scared most of the time, which gives yet another meaning to the term “pussy”.

Should an owner, such as my-own-self, attempt to grab these pussy cats, they would sense that intention and scuttle away to hide under the bed until the owner left the room. However, if an owner is laying down or comfortably seated, collecting cat hair on his or her clothing, a Ragdoll may deign to join that person for some gentle bonding because being grabbed is very unlikely when a human is in repose, with reading material in-hand.

The Ragdolls in my home are named Thelma and Louise, which is likely too cute by half in the naming department. The Clown and the current wife, however, are given to such whimsy. At least they are not “Fluffy” and “Fluffier”. The Clown’s naming suggestions, “Hairball” and “Hacker”, were overridden by a higher authority. This is often the case in such domestic matters.

Thelma and Louise are half-sisters, sharing the same father, a raffish young tom named Diablo. Their respective mothers include Diablo’s aunt and Diablo’s mother. This sort of inbreeding helps to perpetuate the characteristics of the Ragdoll and assures that many of them have weak chins and an IQ of roughly 50.

The third cat, Cassandra, was bequeathed to the household by one of our daughters who, after a brief post-college residence in her “old room”, decided to complete the transition to adulthood by (1) moving out, (2) getting married, (3) starting a family in a far-a-way city and (4) leaving Cassie behind. So there.

Cassie, it seems, had grown found of the Ragdolls and our daughter “just couldn’t bear to tear Cassie away from her buddies”. The Clown opined that it would actually take, at most, eight hours for the cats to completely forget about the other cat and vice versa. As is so often the case, however, his objection to owning another cat was overruled by a higher authority, kind of like the Ninth Circuit being overruled by the Supremes. Case closed.

Suffice to say, The Clown has a good deal of experience in the pussy cat department and in none of that experience has he observed the aggressive grabbing of pussy to be a successful technique of getting what one may want from said pussy. This dissonance, then, between my own experience and the reported comments of the current President, has me bewildered. We can’t both be right. Perhaps when he turns over his tax returns, he will append a memo explaining how his technique for grabbin’ pussies is different and effective. Until then, the Clown will continue to refrain from the practice.

 

Observoid of the Day: To cure a finicky-eater cat, withhold all food for 7 days at which point the cat will eat shredded linoleum. Voila!

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