When the cat is fat, the mice will play

Like most people I hate generalisations. But I suspect I am generalising when I say most people hate generalisations. Let us just say, I suspect 6.375 out of every 8.99 people hate generalisations.

But, I have always argued that “exceptions don’t nullify the rule”. This is by the way an original quote. Like most people I know you won’t believe me and when one day you use this quote, you won’t attribute it to me. But let me not generalise.

In fact, let me get to my point quickly and not be like most people who waste time before they say what they want to say. There I go again generalising.

Anyway, there is a widely held view that single mothers tend to spoil their children. This I suspect it is done (subconsciously of course) to fill the void of the missing dad and to overcompensate.

I don’t know how true this is, but I will tell you one thing, my neighbour, a single middle-aged woman is not doing much to debunk this myth.

You see Miss Mandy, as her maid calls her, has this cat. The only reason I even call it a cat is that it has eyes like a cat and fur like a cat. But there ends any similarity with any cat I know.

This cat is probably 30kg heavy. It looks like it has swallowed Miss Mandy herself. I could have said it looks like it has just swallowed a family of mice, but that would be wishful thinking.

This cat is so fat it would not catch a 10-year-old mouse running backwards. I swear Miss Mandy has an arsenal of mouse traps in her house just to give her fat cat the taste of mice, because without the mouse traps, the cat would not know the taste of mice.

In Miss Mandy’s house I am sure the mice feel like strippers in a monastery, unappreciated.

Just this morning Fat Cat was on the roof. Even though it was clear that he was pretending to be preying on birds for breakfast, my biggest fear was him rolling off the roof and plunging 3 metres to the ground. I swear that would cause a mini earthquake in the neighbourhood.

In fact, I wondered how Fat Cat got to the roof in the first place. I do not want to accuse Miss Mandy as overprotective, but I wouldn’t be shocked if she helped Fat Cat up the roof, just to remind him of his animal instincts.

There is no way Miss Mandy was hoping Fat Cat would scare a bird, let alone catch one. In fact, I saw the birds looking so bored at Fat Cat pretending to be sneaking behind them. They just jumped up and shat on him. Twice.

All he could do was to pussyfoot his way back to the bosom of Miss Mandy. Come to think of it, Fat Cat is the reason the phrase pussyfooting was born.

I am sure you have heard about the one about black people being scared of cats. Yes it is a generalisation. Only 4.94 out of 6.255 blacks don’t like cats. The rest don’t know because there are no cats in the neighbourhoods.

Let me say I am at the best of times, one of 4.94 blacks out of the 6.255 who don’t have a strong affinity towards cats.

I don’t remember whether this is because of the stories of witchcrafts our grannies shared with us while surrounding the Welcome Dover stoves in the cold and dark winters of my youth.

It could also be because of the stories we were told of how cats kill children. Yes. Hands up anyone who has not heard this? You were certainly born after Mandela called De Klerk a man of integrity.

But I digress.

What I know though is that I am not scared of Fat Cat. Often times I find him on the passage as I walk to my apartment. Immediately upon seeing me, he sprints at a literally breath-taking 7km/h to get out of my way.

And I know it is not because I am black. Fat Cat is too fat and lazy to even entertain racist thoughts.

Whereas at the best of times if I was faced with a sight and presence of a cat on the way to my door, I would have found an alternative route by now, with Fat Cat I relish the experience of scaring a cat everytime I appear.

One thing is for sure with Fat Cat, there is absolutely no ways he’s got nine lives. He would not have the energy to access those lives if he lost this fat, lazy one he has.