The techniques used by the average cat are so subtle, humankind hasn't even noticed it yet, after thousands and thousands of years. NASA hasn't been able to get available funding for this ever since some crazy woman called them to tell them that the planet was being invaded by an alien named Mickey. . . uh, I mean Nickey. Yeah, that's it. Nickey. That's my story, and I'm sticking to it! Anyway, I know for a fact that the woman was very rudely laughed at for 20 minutes. Don't ask me how I know--I just do. Just take my word for it! I cannot reveal my sources. I understand the Department of Defense hung up the phone, complaining about cranks and crackpots. Again, I cannot reveal my sources.

Back to the subtlety of cats. This is the beauty of such strategies: as the human race, we still don't know what hit us. I personally know one woman owned and controlled by a cat named Webster. She warms Webster's blankie for him in the dryer every morning before she leaves for work. Try to let a MAN have that much control over her, and, uh-uh, no sir, nothin' doin'!

For example, I live in a nice, comfortable apartment with my husband. We live here because two furry critters named Mickey and Melody allow us to. It's a give and take relationship: we give them plenty of kibble and ice water, and they take it with lots of brushing, and petting, and kind words.

I personally don't know of any human being that can get pampered, and loved, and told how beautiful he/she is 87 times an hour, all while not having to work, pay bills, or be responsible for anything in order to earn such an elevated status. I have heard that there are such lazy people in the world, but they usually get dragged off to talk shows, to be complained against by their co-dependent relatives, and booed at by the studio audience. People won't date them, and they are generally shunned as being no darned good. Have you ever seen anyone tearfully tell Sally or Oprah their pathetic dilemma about the Himalayan who eats them out of house and home, maxing out the credit cards, spending everything on his catnip abuse habit? What about someone complaining about their out-of-control Russian Blue who parties all night at wild orgies with all the neighborhood tomcats? Worse yet, complaining about their sorrow for all the poor little illegitimate kittens brought into the world as a result of this reckless behavior?

In the canine world, dogs have obedience schools they must attend. I have yet to find a cat obedience school. Dogs must earn their keep by being good protectors of their masters. Cats don't respond to any master--they ARE the masters! The Masters of the Universe! Why is that? Is it because cats are in complete control of the Earth, and the entire universe?

To illustrate, Mickey sleeps about 18 hours a day in a queen sized bed. Occasionally he gets up to scratch around in a litter box that is clean enough to his liking. If it isn't, he leaves lovely, fragrant presents on freshly scrubbed floors. Then he might yawn, scratch, yawn some more, look out the window, and stuff his face with his favorite kibble; then he'll turn his nose up at his dish of ice water that isn't fresh enough (I mean, come on, it HAS been sitting there for three whole minutes, at least), go into the bathroom, take a long drink out of the toilet then go back to his queen-sized bed and start the whole cycle all over again. Melody lives her 18 hours of slumber on a leather couch. She has a similar routine, but, being a well-rounded individual, she does have her hobbies: cellophane eating, drinking straw theft, toe chewing, and keeping her claws nice and sharp on everything but her scratching post.

My husband works hard all day and goes to night school, in addition to teaching college psychology courses. I work very hard keeping the house immaculate, cooking delicious meals from scratch, writing, keeping our office organized, and maintaining files. We go to bed at night having worked a full day, every day.

Pay attention to a cat the next time you hear it purr. Science still has not discovered where a cat's purr originates from. These are alien sound waves designed to control rational, intelligent human beings, forcing them to do feline bidding.

I must stop writing for now. UPS is here, delivering some Nova Scotia salmon to Mickey, and he can't sign his name. He never bothered to learn how to hold a pen. Why should he? That's what human fingers are for.

Copyright 1999 Judith Hall

Judith Hall may be contacted at http://www.ideamarketers.com Becksbier@aol.com. Click here to view more of their articles.
Janet is a full time writer who enjoys writing humor and would love to write like the Great Wonderous Goddess of HaHa herself, Erma Bombeck. She made being a hausfrau a respected art form, thus bringing back the elastic waistband, and made KMart fashions legal again! For that, I raise my yellow rubber gloves and salute her!

My background is in visual communications, an education obtained through much coffee, madness, and miracles, and the blissful ignorance of not noticing when mistakes were made, so they were never dwelled upon.

My husband and I have two cats, a pedigreed Birman named Mickey, and a loveable mutt tabby named Melody; they both descended upon us from places not of this world.

I enjoy history, reading, research, cooking, home canning, portrait illustration, humor, weight training, ethnic diversity, gardening, and travel. I love the great outdoors, especially the mountains, and would someday love to learn mountain climbing.