There are few things that annoy our species more than being taunted. All you precocious kittens, take heed: do not feel shy about showing awareness, displeasure, even rage if ever even a shadow of a taunt ventures in your presence. Yes, I can sense your eyes widening: you fear you might have missed taunts directed at you; never fear! Omiti is here! This post is designed to help you recognize and react to taunts and other kinds of unforgivable mockery.
First and foremost, never forget that we, felines, are the most worship-worthy of beings; as such, we inspire awe and fear in all lesser beings. Always keep your eyes at full blast, whiskers starched, standing at attention, perpendicular to the Earth and Sky, and sharp molars peeking out, to always threaten. If you are mid-nap, program ears and tail to twitch enough to keep the world around you on its toes. All waking hours should be devoted to maximizing the glare, for much mockery abounds.
A particularly cruel kind of mockery comes from our High Priests, the humans, with whom we deign to co-habit, thinking to spread our benevolent presence to enrich their lives. The mistaken human calls this "The Play." This is a rather involved ritual, which is often mistaken, especially by innocent, affectionate kittens. The human beckons us, and then we see, not our pet human but a prey, yet not exactly smelling like any prey; our scientific nature compels us to investigate this new species, and we all know that that first step for this investigation is capture of subject, which proves most elusive. Sometimes, another kind of prey squeaks and rolls around, making a strange sound which needs to be curbed and conquered. Again, pursuit becomes imperative; however, capture of this proves too easy, which should make you wary of the circumstance.
Yes, this is a taunt. This ritual does not end in prey being sacrificed to us. Not at all. Once we capture this being, it is snatched away by a supernatural force and we are left bereft, and as a peace offering, a bowl of our usual fare is proffered. Partake of no more than a couple of mouthfuls, just enough to keep your strength up. You will undoubtedly become more aware of chortles and giggles, a sure sign that you've been had. Never forget this. I always trail an undertone of a growl as I stalk away from the proffered appeasement.
However, this is not the only mockery. Being the top of the food chain implies that we are the object of envy and resentment, and we each have our own individual tormentors. For instance, there is a squirrel who lives somewhere in the tree in my territory (meticulous cognisance of said tree has not yet revealed her hidey-hole; investigation ongoing), who resents me and has a ready litany of unkind comments phrased in most unimaginably obscene language, such that would make wharf cats spit and hiss in shock. This squirrel needs no provoking; she just has to see me being adored by the Sun, and she begins.
I am sure you have some being of similarly low character tormenting your peace. There is a process to handling this. First, I let the squirrel have her say; I even pretend to pay heed, and add just the correct hue of condescension to the tilt of my ear. My condescension, of course, is lost on her and she continues, adding annoying bobbing of her head and twitching of her tail as punctuation. At this point, I stop listening and pointedly look away, sometimes even showing her my back, in case she is feeling particularly stupid or dense for hints about how pointless I find her barrage. Of course, being naturally dim (so dim that you precocious kittens cannot imagine), she just gets louder. At this juncture, it is important to show who is who. I find it most effective when I can catch her eye and glare her down so she scurries away after a couple of feeble attempts. Sometimes, however, more drastic steps are needed. You can stretch yourself tall and show your scimitar claws, growl and yawn simultaneously to exhibit those cruel teeth, or threaten to slap, to smash the irritation out of existence.
This is not to say that there are no more than a couple of beings that mock us thus; there are, of course, many more. There is the woodpecker, for instance, who has been pointlessly knocking on the same spot for the past few days; there are those jackdaws that blatantly laugh hideously and hysterically for no apparent reason, and fly away after flinging around a few rude insults; I could go on. But you get the point.
After a hundred thousand lifetimes, a being is granted the lofty status of being feline. This state of being is attendant to many vexations, which must be borne with aplomb and addressed with dignity and proper ritual. I am unable to address each of these distressing indignation here. I encourage you to post your own tribulations, and may hap, we can provide validation and comfort to each other as we share the glories and grievances of being feline.
First and foremost, never forget that we, felines, are the most worship-worthy of beings; as such, we inspire awe and fear in all lesser beings. Always keep your eyes at full blast, whiskers starched, standing at attention, perpendicular to the Earth and Sky, and sharp molars peeking out, to always threaten. If you are mid-nap, program ears and tail to twitch enough to keep the world around you on its toes. All waking hours should be devoted to maximizing the glare, for much mockery abounds.
A particularly cruel kind of mockery comes from our High Priests, the humans, with whom we deign to co-habit, thinking to spread our benevolent presence to enrich their lives. The mistaken human calls this "The Play." This is a rather involved ritual, which is often mistaken, especially by innocent, affectionate kittens. The human beckons us, and then we see, not our pet human but a prey, yet not exactly smelling like any prey; our scientific nature compels us to investigate this new species, and we all know that that first step for this investigation is capture of subject, which proves most elusive. Sometimes, another kind of prey squeaks and rolls around, making a strange sound which needs to be curbed and conquered. Again, pursuit becomes imperative; however, capture of this proves too easy, which should make you wary of the circumstance.
Yes, this is a taunt. This ritual does not end in prey being sacrificed to us. Not at all. Once we capture this being, it is snatched away by a supernatural force and we are left bereft, and as a peace offering, a bowl of our usual fare is proffered. Partake of no more than a couple of mouthfuls, just enough to keep your strength up. You will undoubtedly become more aware of chortles and giggles, a sure sign that you've been had. Never forget this. I always trail an undertone of a growl as I stalk away from the proffered appeasement.
However, this is not the only mockery. Being the top of the food chain implies that we are the object of envy and resentment, and we each have our own individual tormentors. For instance, there is a squirrel who lives somewhere in the tree in my territory (meticulous cognisance of said tree has not yet revealed her hidey-hole; investigation ongoing), who resents me and has a ready litany of unkind comments phrased in most unimaginably obscene language, such that would make wharf cats spit and hiss in shock. This squirrel needs no provoking; she just has to see me being adored by the Sun, and she begins.
I am sure you have some being of similarly low character tormenting your peace. There is a process to handling this. First, I let the squirrel have her say; I even pretend to pay heed, and add just the correct hue of condescension to the tilt of my ear. My condescension, of course, is lost on her and she continues, adding annoying bobbing of her head and twitching of her tail as punctuation. At this point, I stop listening and pointedly look away, sometimes even showing her my back, in case she is feeling particularly stupid or dense for hints about how pointless I find her barrage. Of course, being naturally dim (so dim that you precocious kittens cannot imagine), she just gets louder. At this juncture, it is important to show who is who. I find it most effective when I can catch her eye and glare her down so she scurries away after a couple of feeble attempts. Sometimes, however, more drastic steps are needed. You can stretch yourself tall and show your scimitar claws, growl and yawn simultaneously to exhibit those cruel teeth, or threaten to slap, to smash the irritation out of existence.
This is not to say that there are no more than a couple of beings that mock us thus; there are, of course, many more. There is the woodpecker, for instance, who has been pointlessly knocking on the same spot for the past few days; there are those jackdaws that blatantly laugh hideously and hysterically for no apparent reason, and fly away after flinging around a few rude insults; I could go on. But you get the point.
After a hundred thousand lifetimes, a being is granted the lofty status of being feline. This state of being is attendant to many vexations, which must be borne with aplomb and addressed with dignity and proper ritual. I am unable to address each of these distressing indignation here. I encourage you to post your own tribulations, and may hap, we can provide validation and comfort to each other as we share the glories and grievances of being feline.
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