posted: November 12, 2003
Our cat huddles so close to the heater that one would think he was recently removed from cryogenic suspension. I assure you that this is not the case; he's been right here, sucking up food at a phenomenal rate for years and even more so lately, until he has become a white-furred rival to the Goodyear blimp. So, as Kitts attempts to singe his whiskers off and bake his forepaws into crispy, crooked mummy-fingers, my husband undertakes development of his most recent theory and preliminary investigation by poking the cat with his toe.
The cat gives him a look so dirty you'd have to pre-spot with ether and a flamethrower to get it clean. Miraculously, Kitts does not catch fire, in spite of putting his ears into the heater grid.
This only evokes an inquiring expression from my husband.
"What are you doing?" I ask, fool that I am.
"I'm checking."
"What?"
"The exterior temperature of the cat. By rights, he really should be smoking at the very least, by now, considering his proximity to this heat-source, yet he seems to be entirely cool."
While he's rather laid-back, I grant you, in that aloof, kitty sort of way, I don't know that I'd call him "cool". And no one smokes in this household--or boathold, as the case may be, so I am, understandably, somewhat intrigued.
"What, exactly, is it, that you think you have detected in the anomaly of our cat being un-singeable?"
"I believe that cats are the answer to the theoretical heat-death of the Universe."
"Uh-huh...."
"Y'see, when I was a kid, we had a cat who would sit right on the stove if he could, until he steamed, and never show any ill-effect. And I noticed how cats, who are covered in fur and ought to be very warm and comfortable most of the time, have this weird thing about sitting right up close to heat sources. So, I think that cats must have some special association with heat. And I believe that they are the spoiler in the theoretical heat-death of the Universe. I think that they store this heat and carry it around and then let it out again, later, which would stop the Universe from becoming uniform."
"Errr...."
I require a quick physics refresher in order to properly understand Jim's Theory of Heat Conservation by Cat (THCC--pronounced "thick"). Thus we visit the Heat-Death of the Universe. (First bus on the corner of Bose and Einstein, please.)
Basically, because Energy is neither created nor destroyed, but merely passed around like a Christmas fruitcake, eventually, all matter in the Universe will come to an average energy state where everything is equally "energetic". Differing or changing states of Energy are what cause things to hold together and move around, but Physics observes that things tend to average out over time. Energy is most easily expressed as heat, therefore, everything in the universe will eventually be the same temperature and thereby shall come to a slowly-grinding halt as the Universe as a whole becomes one big bowl of luke-warm Cosmic Cream O' Wheat.
But Cats seem to have the ability to suck up as much heat as is available without either bursting into flames or melting into puddles of goo. Therefore, it seems highly likely that they are doing something with that heat. THCC submits the theory that cats are, in fact, mobile heat-bottles, sucking up heat and storing it until they get around to letting it out somewhere else. So long as there are cats running around, sucking and storing heat, the Universe cannot possibly become Universally luke-warm because a cat will eventually unload some or all of its stored heat-energy, somewhere.
This is a terribly important job for cats and they take it very seriously. You can tell this by the way they will sit, quite unbudging, in front of the heater or fireplace, storing up as much heat-energy as possible, ignoring all common-sense urgings to move before they turn into crispy critters.
Once stored, the cat is responsible for maintaining the heat collection and many cats will maintain most of their heat-store and pass it on to generations of kittens to carry on to the End of the Universe and dump, selflessly, into the Great Cosmic Restart Cycle. However, cats have been designed with a failsafe to keep heat-death at bay: they leak. You can detect some of this leakage whenever a cat sits on your lap and purrs.
This is the mechanism by which Spontaneous Human Combustion and other unexplained fires and arsons occur: dramatic cat leakage. A fully-loaded cat is a tricky thing and not to be distracted from its duty. Alas for some people (but very luckily for the Universe), most cats enjoy a good purr on someone's lap. Jumping up onto the lap of a particularly obliging poor-bastard, a sloppy cat may become the object of much petting, which results in purring. Purring loosens the cat's hold on the heat-energy and, in much the same way that feeding the cat a Dorito will result in the release of equally dangerous substances from one end, over-purring may result in sudden, extreme releases of heat in immediate proximity to the cat from the other.
The unwitting purveyor of petting, not being made of asbestos or fire-proof cat material, bursts into flames and is quickly consumed, putting heat-energy back into the Universe and staving off heat-death (of the Universe, that is; too bad for some people, though). The cat, being surprised by the eruption of flames, escapes (frequently by the use of the Cat-Interdimensional Portal Trick) and is never blamed for the resultant fire and carnage. As unfortunate as the loss of human life or property may be, at least the Universe has been saved, one cat-fancier at at time.
However, recognizing that it is not particularly desirable to most humans to become mere Presto-Logs for the Perpetuation of the Universe, Jim provides the following warning signs of imminent cat heat-leakage:
Purring: vibrations to the heat-bottle may, if not damped or stopped by sleep, allow bursts of super-energetic stuff into the vicinity of the cat. Purring may be controlled by judicious use of spray bottles or a quick heave. It has been noted that many cats enjoy purring so much that they seem to become addicted to it. Such a cat is not to be trusted and should be immediately submitted for therapy to curb such dangerous and destructive behavior. Remember: just say "mew"!
Drooling: cats occasionally become so enraptured in their purring state that they begin to drool. This would not be such a tragedy in and of itself, but if the drool begins to steam and smoke, punt the cat and run!
Kneading: the last danger sign is the kneading action of the paws, sometimes called "milk treading," or "making biscuits". If your cat begins to "make biscuits" and is also warm enough to bake them, evacuate the vicinity immediately, unless the vicinity happens to be the vasty, cool reaches of nearly-undifferentiated matter, in which case, you've missed the last stop on the Human evolutionary train and we thank you for your future contribution to the continuation of the Universe, at large.
Please pet the cat as you go.
posted: November 23, 2003
The turkey looms large at the end of the week and I can't help but think about what a bunch of jerks we Americans become this time of year and how truly horrid "the holidays" can be. Now, why is this? Aren't we supposed to enjoy our time off? Aren't we the richest, happiest, most arrogant, self-satisfied monkeys on the planet? But, it doesn't seem to be that way once "the hols" set in....
Supposedly, Americans take fewer vacations and work more hours to make the same standard of living as Europeans. I think I've figured out part of the problem: it's the holidays.
According to a study of international labor hours, US Americans work as many hours by October 30 as Europeans do by December 31. And yet we keep on working for another 2 months before our year is over, take less time off and have more stress-related health problems. Or that's how it sounds.
But, in fact, we don't get a fracking thing done from Hallowe'en to New Year's; we just keep on going to work and collecting the stress anyway. Because there's always some damned "holiday" coming along which gobbles up our time, screws up our schedule, and makes us feel guilty as Pinocchio with his hand up the Blue Fairy's skirt (lie to me some more, you naughty puppet-boy!) I figure that between Veteran's day (Armistice Day for you people who still remember the origin), Thanksgiving, Christmas and New Year's there are 10-12-days-worth of actual, workable hours in the 61 days of combined Novo-December.
What we ought to do is just take that time off, completely. We don't get much done, with all those stupid holidays and parties and family gatherings and driving and shopping and cooking and stressing and chasing after extra details and picking people up from the airport and traveling and wrapping gifts and decorating and getting dressed-up and looking for a date and hoping to get laid and trying to balance the check book and, and, and....
If we just took the months off, then we could be relaxed about all this stuff and we could choose to go in to work or do a little extra work or put in a few voluntary hours and we'd feel good about that and we'd feel good about being off from work and we'd feel good about the holidays and all the things we wanted to do would get done and we could enjoy them because we had the time to do them. If we could just up-end the normal routine of "work first and personal business stuffed in the cracks" we'd all be much happier and more relaxed and I think we'd, ultimately, get more done--both at work and in our lives--and we'd like it a lot better. You could feel really spiffy and superior about those hours spent at work and you'd get to enjoy your days off so much more because you'd just have them, instead of scrambling about, cramming them in.
Further, I think we'd be better off if we didn't have such a bunch of dumb "holidays" in the first place.
"Holiday" comes from Holy Day and it used to be they were the only days the poor serfs (that's us folks!) got to take off from their labors. And maybe the local lord's birthday (or the king, if there was one), if he was a pretty generous guy. Then came Government and with it came the Government Holiday (usually associated with wars and dead people), the Bank Holiday (when the rest of the state has to do without money so the bankers can prove who's really in charge, here) and the Postal Holiday (which is usually a Monday off from the threat of being shot by an enraged postal worker). Sometimes, they all coincide and then we serfs are well and truly humped by an enforced day off on which you can't actually do anything or a day at work during which you can't do anything because there is no mail and no money.
There is also a hierarchy of holidays which is additionally annoying as so many of the Big Dogs of Holiday Fun come in a pack at this time of year in the US. The most important holidays are the Food Holidays, like Thanksgiving and Christmas, followed by the Drinking Holidays, like New Year's, Memorial Day and Independence Day (and Cinco de Mayo, if you're on the West Coast). And then come the Greeting Card Holidays....
These are the annoying holidays which really don't amount to much, but for which you will be made to feel guilty if you don't buy a card or appropriate gift. Valentine's Day is the biggest of the Greeting Card Holidays and it can get you in serious trouble with the SO if you aren't careful. The least of these is the infamous Secretary's Day (now called Executive Assistant's day, thus aceing out all those poor, lower-echelon typist-serfs and office workers whom no one really wants to acknowledge exist, anyway) and more honored in the breach, thank all the gods, than in the giving of allergen-ridden floral arrangements and tacky cards (having been a clerk-typist, I suppose I should love this holiday, but it always manages to annoy, since I hate being "honored" with a lousy lunch in the presence of people I'd usually prefer to spend my lunches away from--how is it a "gift" to be forced to spend your few minutes of relaxation with people you can't relax around?) And there's Father's Day, Mother's Day and parent-squared day, Grandparent's Day, which I figure is a successful lobby on the part of the AARP, since to be a grandparent, you'd have to be a parent first and thus those who've managed to whelp and survive into a respectable age without going postal get twice the cards, goodies and dinners out (this must be an especially nice bonus for USPS workers who are parents of parents, since they have had so much provocation over so many years.)
If only we could do without some of these, or possibly stretch them out differently, I'd be reasonably happy, even without getting to take the whole of December off, at the very least. Though I'd much prefer the latter, wouldn't you?
Unlikely that I'll succeed in overturning the holiday status-quo, in spite of best intentions, I observe the impending Day Of Stuffing (and turkey) with dismay and think of all the holiday olives nibbled off my fingertips as a kid which have engendered fond memories now betrayed by the burning of the pumpkin pie and the stressing of the kitchen staff as the relatives bicker in the living room about who's fault it is that Uncle Elmo is potted and the baby has the wailing snuffles while the hostess smiles a pre-packaged rictus more suited to a clown's funeral and I manage to chop off the tip of my fingernail while cutting carrot sticks and hope it hasn't landed in the dip. ~sigh~
Next year in the promised land:
Canada. (I hear they have Thanksgiving in October!)
Ironicially, I was in Canada on their Thanksgiving weekend, attending Bouchercon in Toronto the next October, though I had not planned that, at the time I wrote this. It was a fateful and important trip.
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