Death and love in different forms
Jul. 14th, 2005 08:49 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
brightrosefoxWe get the Washington Post at work every day; several copies, so I can distribute them around the office. Two front page articles this morning really, really disturbed me and just made me feel so cold: One was the devastating news of children killed in a bomb attack in Iraq while American soldiers had been handing out candy and toys -- candy and toys, for gods's sake. And the photo was just chilling -- women and men caught in blurred moments of screaming, sobbing, wailing, hands dragging the skin of their faces as they tried to claw the grief and pain and horror out of themselves. I really hate the capacity of human hate. I really, really do. And I know hating hate is redundant and pointless, but there is no other word. Yes there is: Despise. Abhor. Abominate. Detest. Loathe. Scorn. Hate is the other side of love. Hate means a certain intensity of feeling. I don't have this intense feeling: I just feel cold and sad and furious and helpless.
The other article is about a woman arrested for having over one hundred dead cats in her house -- a cat collector. She admits to it, but she insists she was never cruel. She loved those animals. But over thirty living kittens and about a dozen living cats were removed, and the rest were dead. Poor woman. She lost control, kept taking them in, taking them in, feeding them letting them breed. They were eating the neighbor cat's food. They were everywhere. And all the dead ones. That seems tragic too, in a smaller way.
The cat article makes me realize the depth of love and affection that humans can have for pets, especially cats. Last night, while Adam was in bed watching TV and I was on the computer, Tuesday jumped up onto his chest and asked for love. And he started cuddling and cooing naturally, and he said to her, "You love me so much, don't you? You love me more than my wife loves me." And I asked what he meant. He said, "She loves me unconditionally in a way a human can't. To her, I am father, packmate, lover, god. I am her world."
And I thought about this. He is right, in a way. A cat will love a human with a kind of love not equaled by other humans, not even a lover, spouse, parent, child. And a human will love a cat with a certain kind of love different from that toward other humans. Love for a child, almost, but not quite. I don't know if I can explain how love between human and feline works. I just feel it. It's different. It's a different power. I told him that I understood. I said, "I love you as much as I could ever love you. I'm not in competition with the kitten." He grinned and said, "Yes, but she is in competition with you." As if to prove that point, Tuesday did her cute little sideways collapse against his chest, closed her eyes, tucked her head under his chin, and purred. She really does love him in a very specific feline way that I don't know if humans can really grasp.
And I thought, this woman must have had so much love for the cats. And maybe she just never saw what was happening to her home.
We have Puff with us now, the long-haired gray and white tabby that his Aunt Randy made him take. I'd like to give her to someone else. She is the sweetest cat I have ever known, truly gentle; I love her but my allergies don't. I'll keep her if we cannot find her a home, but I don't do well with long-haired cats. And the love I feel toward her isn't great. Not like the love I have for Tuesday. I look at Tuesday like my child. I'd do anything in my power to keep her safe and healthy. But Puff... I want Puff to have someone who can really love her. She needs a love I can't give her. And I know Tuesday is insanely jealous and territorial.
Tuesday is one of those "I only love mommy and daddy" cats. She will growl and hiss even at Charlotte, who helped care for her from the day we got her. Then again, she seems to see Charlotte as more of a playmate. I am trying to get her to open up more to other people. When people come over, I want them to be able to play with her and cuddle her without getting scratched.
That is all I can really think about right now. I have to stop glancing at the Post now.
The other article is about a woman arrested for having over one hundred dead cats in her house -- a cat collector. She admits to it, but she insists she was never cruel. She loved those animals. But over thirty living kittens and about a dozen living cats were removed, and the rest were dead. Poor woman. She lost control, kept taking them in, taking them in, feeding them letting them breed. They were eating the neighbor cat's food. They were everywhere. And all the dead ones. That seems tragic too, in a smaller way.
The cat article makes me realize the depth of love and affection that humans can have for pets, especially cats. Last night, while Adam was in bed watching TV and I was on the computer, Tuesday jumped up onto his chest and asked for love. And he started cuddling and cooing naturally, and he said to her, "You love me so much, don't you? You love me more than my wife loves me." And I asked what he meant. He said, "She loves me unconditionally in a way a human can't. To her, I am father, packmate, lover, god. I am her world."
And I thought about this. He is right, in a way. A cat will love a human with a kind of love not equaled by other humans, not even a lover, spouse, parent, child. And a human will love a cat with a certain kind of love different from that toward other humans. Love for a child, almost, but not quite. I don't know if I can explain how love between human and feline works. I just feel it. It's different. It's a different power. I told him that I understood. I said, "I love you as much as I could ever love you. I'm not in competition with the kitten." He grinned and said, "Yes, but she is in competition with you." As if to prove that point, Tuesday did her cute little sideways collapse against his chest, closed her eyes, tucked her head under his chin, and purred. She really does love him in a very specific feline way that I don't know if humans can really grasp.
And I thought, this woman must have had so much love for the cats. And maybe she just never saw what was happening to her home.
We have Puff with us now, the long-haired gray and white tabby that his Aunt Randy made him take. I'd like to give her to someone else. She is the sweetest cat I have ever known, truly gentle; I love her but my allergies don't. I'll keep her if we cannot find her a home, but I don't do well with long-haired cats. And the love I feel toward her isn't great. Not like the love I have for Tuesday. I look at Tuesday like my child. I'd do anything in my power to keep her safe and healthy. But Puff... I want Puff to have someone who can really love her. She needs a love I can't give her. And I know Tuesday is insanely jealous and territorial.
Tuesday is one of those "I only love mommy and daddy" cats. She will growl and hiss even at Charlotte, who helped care for her from the day we got her. Then again, she seems to see Charlotte as more of a playmate. I am trying to get her to open up more to other people. When people come over, I want them to be able to play with her and cuddle her without getting scratched.
That is all I can really think about right now. I have to stop glancing at the Post now.
