Accept That Your Human Will Never Learn to Lick Her Butt

Part 2-Speaking Directly to Bats is Simply Unforgivable

A group of five young cats. None of them more than two years old. Neatly huddled together. So not quite bold enough to be city cats, but with none of the edgy watchfulness that country cats and housecats have when they come to the park. So that leaves the suburbs.

As is customary, only one of the group may speak directly to me. Their chosen ambassador comes awkwardly forward. An orange, unremarkable little fellow. Not at all alpha-like. I'm guessing that he was bullied by the rest to take on the job of addressing me.

"I am called Ranger, Lord Hannibal, Overlord, Clawed One, Fanged One, Death-Bringer to Bird and Rodent, Descendent of the Most Worshipped Cats of Egypt, Keeper of all Cat Wisdom and August Defender of Catism. I have need of your ear."

I acknowledge his request to speak. He looks almost too embarrassed to do so, but then begins.

"Lord Hannibal. Uh, we have a question. We simply wanted to be sure. There are some... different ways of thinking about this. We thought we should ask."

"Go on."

"Well, um. Hehe. We all live in the same neighborhood. On some evenings. When it is quite late, we gather in an alleyway. There's this streetlight there. So there are insects. Flying. Hehe."

His nervous snicker is incredibly annoying.

In the air, he paints the motion of a moth flitting about with his paw. "You know. Moths and such."

"Yes," I said giving my voice an edge of impatience. Spurring him to hurry on, I hope. There are at least four other cats waiting their turn in the bush beside the bench. Waiting for these overgrown kittens to get whatever it is over with.

"Well, so naturally there are bats."

Ah. Finally, we come to it. Bats. Now I know exactly where this is headed. Inevitably.

Um. There's usually two or three of them. Hehe. They fly back and forth. And they um... talk."

"Yes, they tend to. I've never in my long life ever heard of a quiet bat."

"Oh, then you know? They're funny little things, right...?"

"Well, yes. It's a vulgar kind of funny, though."

"Yeah. Of course. But it is pretty good. Hehe."

Indeed. I can't possibly dispute it. Bats do have the capacity to make a joke out of anything.

"It never ends! The stuff about the perils of peeing while hanging upside down... Priceless! And the imitations."

Correct again. They are masters of filthy insults and mimicking.

"Well, it makes such sense. They can't see much of anything, but they hear pretty much everything," I tell him.

"Have you heard them imitating how crows speak?" The little orange fellow is now almost hopping with amusement. "The bits where they pretend to be a crow trying to impress his girlfriend with a shiny string? Hilarious! Hehe."

Bats do love to imitate crows for some reason, and we all know crows deserve it. And while I would love to hear the string gag, it wouldn't be dignified. I must focus on my duty to the younger generation.

I draw myself up with august dignity and all of them take a small step back. The orange one at least has the good manners to curb his amusement and bow his head swiftly.

"There are only three rules you need to concern yourself about this situation. Your reputations as Cats depend upon it."

All five now lean forward, paying rapt attention.

No kittens can be present listening to the bats. I once had to "cure" a kitten who had been raised with them sleeping in the attic above him each day. It was like conducting an exorcism. Even down to the high-pitched squeaks! If there are any kittens about, chase them away. Lay into them if you must, but shoo them away. They must not be exposed to it.If you happen to catch a bat, you may kill it but you may not eat it. No self-respecting cat can overlook the leather wings. Too disgusting. Unnatural, even.Never, ever speak directly to a bat. Just don't. Do not ask why.

All of them nod as one and seem to take it all in with the necessary seriousness. I raise my paw to dismiss them, but one of the others coughs and makes a sign to the orange one.

"Lord Hannibal. So sorry, but we have just a few more questions we want to ask you..."

"Quickly, then."

"Well, why is it that bats see so poorly? There must be a reason, Lord Hannibal."

"Look at the wretched creatures. Of course, they see poorly. Otherwise, they would be too frightened to mate with each other."

They trade enlightened looks with each other, seeing the indisputable sense in it. The odd wings. The beady eyes. The hopeless tatty fur covering them. Not one redeeming feature. The revolting unfortunates.

"Oh and is it actually true that there are birds as large as a cat? And that they have claws. Some of them flying around at night in the dark? Or is that just another ridiculous rumor..." his voice trails off as if afraid he is speaking utter nonsense.

"It is true. I have seen them for myself."

They do not attempt to hide the collective shiver that goes through them.

"Some of them are truly even large enough to make off with those of our kind. But trust your Cat-senses, children. They are all that stand between you and the entire world. Use them against the great silent-winged hunters and you will always evade them."

The "silent-winged hunters" part seemed to terrify them. A few of them backed up to sit on their haunches at hearing the words, contemplating the notion. Letting it sink in for a few seconds.

I see that suddenly, both individually and as a group, they are anxious to be off and home long before dark. With any luck, it may be quite some time before they venture out again at night to listen to the raunchy banter of bats. Which is probably just as well.

I nod to release them and they scatter as one, racing ungracefully in the direction of home. Suddenly reduced to a silent little pack of youngsters unexpectedly facing a perilous journey back to the edges of civilization, their heads filled with visions of giant, savage birds.

There is a slight rustle in the bushes as the next impatient soul requiring my attention prepares to arrive for an audience.

A smoky blue lady leaps up onto the bench in their wake. Landing so very neatly on her impeccable paws. A welcome vision of Catliness, indeed. Nearly Siamese in her sleek elegance.

"I am called Tinka, Lord Hannibal, Overlord, Clawed One, Fanged One, Death-Bringer to Bird and Rodent, Descendent of the Most Worshipped Cats of Egypt, Keeper of all Cat Wisdom and August Defender of Catism. I have need of your ear."