My cat, Scooby, is not big on inclusiveness or diversity.
His world view from a window overlooking my backyard keeps him constantly upset. From this would-be catbird seat, Scooby surveys a changing world and he fears the changes.
First came the birds. They were annoying as they flapped and fluttered from tree to tree and bush to bush, but they obviously were just tourists. One of them built a nest in an eavestrough on the neighbor’s roof, but the summer home was a flimsy tangle of cheap construction materials and only lasted through one spring storm.
Scooby growled at them, but admits he found them a bit entertaining in their exotic, brightly colored attire and with their nonsensical chirping in some rudimentary language. Besides, they obviously were migrants and soon would go back to wherever.
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Then came the squirrels. He had seen one now and then over the winter, but by March they were everywhere. As many as four or five chased each other around the backyard in an obscene mating ritual every morning. They stole nuts from the walnut tree and buried them here and there as if they were planning on permanent residency.
Scooby was incensed. He had not come all the way from Petco, fought his way back to health from a humiliating operation at a planned parenthood clinic and marked off his property with his own urine only to allow some unwashed and uncivilized species to use it.
The final insult, however, was the rabbits — an oddly-shaped horde of long-eared invaders that arrived in April, hopping about and producing so many babies they can hardly feed them all. Even worse, the horrid hoppers dine on the garden planted by the humans he has allowed to share his humble home.
Like the squirrels, the rabbits brought with them patterns of behavior Scooby thinks can lead nowhere but to the destruction of the socio-economic system that house cats have carved out of the wilderness of one-time human domination. Scooby tears up as he retraces the painful path his species — felis domesticus — traveled from the jungles, through the milk barns, granaries and back alleys, to establish warm homes with supper dishes constantly filled by their two-legged servants.
Granted, cats have not yet reached the supremacy and privilege of the dogs who pass Scooby’s window every morning — rain or shine — with humans trailing behind, carrying plastic bags of poop. Still, he believes much rightful progress has been made.
Now, unless stopped, he fears all that inherited felis domesticus privilege could be lost. Scooby is consumed by anxiety that leads to anger that leads to bigotry.
During quiet moments in the evening, when his nervousness is dulled by a hit of catnip and the kitchen blind is lowered for the night, I have tried to talk to him about the positive aspects of diversity.
I point out how much more interesting the backyard is with the colorful flutter of the birds and the joy of the squirrel chase and the carefree antics of the rabbits. I tell him life is not a “zero sum” game where personal gain only comes from someone else’s loss. But, breaking through his fear takes time and effort.
I often suggest he might benefit from embracing the newcomers. I point out how much he could learn about positive work ethics from the birds as they build nests for their young. I tell him he could learn about planning for the future from the squirrels as they gather and store nuts for winter. I tell him he could learn from the rabbits how to eat some lettuce, in order to help hold down our grocery bill.
However, Scooby’s world view is not about living in harmony, learning from his fellow creatures or creating a better world through the diverse contributions of all.
Scooby’s world view is his backyard as seen through a closed window. He believes he has earned every privilege he possesses and that newcomers offer nothing more than the theft of his rightful place in the world.
I tell him he is self-centered, driven by irrational fear and needs to “get out more.”
Scooby just curls up in the padded “kitty bed” I bought for him and dozes off.
Bud Herron is a retired editor and newspaper publisher who lives in Columbus. He served as publisher of The Republic from 1998 to 2007. His weekly column appears on the Opinion page each Sunday. All opinions expressed are those of the writer. Contact him at editorial@therepublic.com.
