Living in the moment can be dangerous
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Early-morning dramas as both Wan and Thong forget their lessons
IT’S EARLY in the morning when I come downstairs, where my poodle pup Wan-Wan, all the inside cats, as well as soi cats Thep and Thong settle down for breakfast.
Suddenly, we hear terrible yowls outside coming from two other cats. They’re about to start a cat-fight.
My cats stop eating and turn their heads towards the noise. Wan, the cat-protector, begins whining. She looks at me as in: “Do something! Make them stop!”
Those two cats are in the patio of a house across the street, the home of a man who really hates animals. He knows cats live in my house, and since he doesn’t distinguish between the animals I take care of and the animals who wander the soi, he’ll blame me for the cat-fight on his property.
As I open the gate to go across the street, Wan rushes out ahead of me and runs across the street to join in the cat-fight.
I’ve trained Wan never to run out the gate unless I invite her, and she’s been very good. I usually don’t have to worry about a speeding motorcycle ending her life. Now, in her excitement, she’s forgotten everything.
My thanks to friends and readers who have advised me to stop climbing my aluminium ladder to bring idiot soi cat Thong down from the roof of my house.
It’s really stupid to climb an unstable ladder to grab an unstable cat, isn’t it? Almost as stupid as a cat climbing up to a roof when he doesn’t know how to get down.
The big difference between Thong and me is not in the brains department but in our awareness of the consequences of our actions. When Thong starts climbing, he’s not thinking a few minutes ahead, not even a few seconds ahead, to how he’s going to get down. He’s living in the moment.
When I climb that ladder, I’m in the moment – and a few seconds ahead. How will I grab Thong? How will I step down that shaky ladder while he swings back and forth as I hold him with one hand? Meanwhile, the poor cat is terrified, not understanding that in a few seconds he’ll be just fine.
Timing is everything, isn’t it? Wan won’t listen to anyone when she’s so excited about a cat-fight, and neither will Thong when he’s so frightened. I have to remove both of them from those particular situations before they’ll remember themselves again.
It wouldn’t help to hit the two animals or even yell at them. The cat and dog wouldn’t respond, and they wouldn’t understand either. Hitting and yelling are not effective teaching tools.
In Wan’s case, I simply grab her and put her back in the patio. Then she smiles at me, as in: “Oops! I forgot, didn’t I?” She’s finally remembered what she’s done wrong.
Those two cats disappear as soon as they notice my little dog, postponing their fight for later.
With Thong, I let him drop gently to the ground. He doesn’t even thank me, just runs downstairs, but he does remember his fear.
The next day, he’s up on the roof again, but he won’t let me catch him. He’s in trouble, but he’d rather not endure the way I bring him down from the roof. Instead, he solves the problem himself. A few hours later, he’s found a way to come down to the third floor, where he’s waiting for me to let him in.
He’s all scratched up, though, as if he’s had problems with a tree or a bush on his way down.
Slowly, slowly the boy will learn that if he climbs upwards, he must come downwards by himself.
