Interference

So... couple of things.

This morning, after having been roasted in a shower that had no cold water (and my personal cleaning closet being something along the ways of "awesome," so one can imagine me bathing on the SURFACE OF THE SUN), I had the door to the backyard open (as my bathroom shares a wall with the outdoors that coincidentally contains a door) and was privy to the most unearthly squeal in recent memory. Imagine this, if you will. A man takes some time to floss with the door open to the elements, and he's rewarded with the screechings of demon pig bastards outside his door. I hate naturalists... we moved out of the trees for a reason.

I went to the door to investigate the source of the wailing and was treated to the sight of Jenner, one of the cats that has fallen by the social wayside since going to The Outlands, in the process of killing a mockingbird, which was not at all amused by the prospect.

Before I go on, I want to explain about Jenner. When a cat goes from being an Inside Cat to an Outside Cat, there are basically two reactions. 1) Cat adapts quickly, cat enjoys life, cat remains friends with owner despite blatant rejection, or 2) Cat develops mean streak and harbors deep grudge against owners for remainder of its natural life, and probably a few years beyond that as well while it tried to get used to kitty heaven not having much in the way of catnip (kitty heaven doesn't have catnip much in the way human heaven doesn't have crack-cocaine). Jenner, a daughter of Pangea, our first cat, who has served pretty much as queen within the cat hive we have cultivated, is of the latter variety.

To look into the eyes of Jenner is to see hate in its most raw, seething form. Even her voice has become warped and twisted by the ire she maintains for us; a low, rumbling caterwaul usually reserved for cats feeling indistinctly threatened, but expanded in her case to cover any and all social interaction.

Imagine now, if you will, my surprise at seeing this flabby feline trying to still its newly caught quarry, when I thought all it was capable of was disliking the whole of humanity. I suppose it could have killed the bird with pure hate... but I'll never be sure.

Here's the thing. The bird was still alive when I saw them. Kicking and screaming, pecking and biting, the bird was not even slowing down. If anything, it just seemed very upset about what was going on. So, thinking I was doing the right thing, I decided I'd save the bird. That's what I do, I see natural interaction, and I save the damn bird. So, being the alpha male around my particular little harem of kitties, I started to walk toward Jenner, thinking that she'd leave when I got too close and the bird would fly away. As I got closer, Jenner got noticeably nervous, seeming to not even regard the constant pecks to the head she was recieving, and when I finally got too close she ran away, leaving the bird behind. All had gone according to plan.

Except the bird wasn't flying away.

The bird, hurt worse than it let on (which, I suppose, is a fine survival mechanism, UNTIL THERE'S SOMEONE TRYING TO HELP YOU, BIRD!) coudl not fly away, and, instead, wings spread to either side as if to say "Woo-hoo!" hopped off into the bushes.

Well shit. Now I just feel bad. The bird's not going to survive, not like that, and now it doesn't even get the solace of a quick death. It's going to rot in a bush. I tell you, if I could have killed the bird then, I would have; but it was a very large bush, and it as a very quick bird.

I thought I'd retreat back to the bathroom, stand in the doorway, and let Jenner finish the job she'd begun. She came back quickly enough, driven mad by her newfound bloodlust (I guess sleeplust and loathinglust had become mundane for her), but was unable to go into the bushes as we'd recently had some pool trouble and, as a result of some overflow, there was a whole inch os water under the bushes. Jenner stod there for a while, occasionally tapping the surface with a paw to see if she could somehow walk ON TOP of the water, but categorically refusing to step in, regardless of the little splashes and squawks I could see her homing in on.

And that's how I left the scene, Jenner unsatisfied, mockingbird slowly dying in the muddy water under a hedge. Before I left for work, I checked back on Wild Kingdom: The Home Game, and saw only a bush shaking violently every now and then, along with the same harsh screaming I'd heard when this entire slice of life had begun.

You know how when someone is filming a nature documentary, say about baby turtles, and something attacks their subject, say the passing seagulls, the documentographers (or whatever the hell they want to call themselves) are not allowed to interfere with the course of nature? How, no matter how much they want to help out the baby turtle or the cheetah cubs or the flying marmosets, they simply aren't allowed to butt in?

It's because they'd fail. They'd step on a turtle or they'd snap a kitten's neck. It has nothing to do with the circle of life or letting nature take its course. Nothing like that. It's because we have become so disconnected with nature, after having come down from the trees, that we no longer have any idea what we're doing when it comes to it. People spend their weekends or weeks at a time journeying off into nature, doing hikes and camping trips, trying to regain some semblance of their lost instincts, their missing connection to their ancestries. Thousands upon thousands of people feel the urge to go off into the forest and try to come close to dying, but of course never without their parkas, warming packs, and precious propane stoves. Sure, we can rough it, we can show the world that we're still in tune with Gaea, but I'm not going to do it without my scramby eggs in the morning.

Stay at home. Live the lives that humans have made for themselves, or go totally natural, just running into the woods completely naked one day with nothing at all to help you. Either or, no middle-ground.

...

Words to the chorus of a particular Andrew W.K. song off of the album "I Get Wet" :

"We're gonna have a fun night! (fun night x3)
We're gonna get off! (gonna get off x2)"

Thing I have thought Andrew W.K. was saying other than this:

"We're gonna have a Bud Lite! (Bud Lite x3)
We're cutting it off! (cutting it off x2)"

"You've gotta fun light! (fun light x3)
We're turning it off! (turning it off x2)"

"We're gonna have a fun life! (fun life x3)
Get the tourniquet off! (tourniquet off x2)"

So yeah. I'm an idiot.

The Wolf.