My Faithful Achates

"Why don't you say anything good about Cricket in your blog?" my wife asked me after reading my last cat-oriented blog entry. My wife's criticism made me feel especially conscience-stricken, since after we got married, Cricket seems to have become "my cat," discovering within my lap a certain Je ne sais quoi that my wife's just did not have. Because Cricket grew up with my wife and established bonds with her, it is a special compliment to me, and a testimony to my superiority, that he has chosen to place his affections on me over her, and it is my responsibility to acknowledge his good taste. So here's to you, Cricket, my faithful Achates. This entry will be about how great you are, because you love me.

It is often touching when I'll be taking a bath, and Cricket pushes the bathroom door open so he can jump on the laundry basket and keep me company. However, the most touching moment of all was right after my wife and I returned from Christmas break, and it had been several weeks since we had last been able to see our cats. As all good things must come to an end, I was forced to retire from the reunion in order to visit the bathroom, where I was compelled to offer up some rather odoriferous incense to the porcelain gods. While I was engaging in the sacred ritual, Cricket pushed open the bathroom door. I was a little embarrassed about the olfactory component of my activity, but do you know what? Cricket didn't care. He tried to sit on my lap anyway. Not even wives would display this degree of loyalty!

Given that Cricket often can't bear to use his own litterbox because of the smell, it is really rather touching that he can bear the smell of my litterbox because there is something more important at stake, like the quality of our friendship. An old youth group leader defined a friend as "someone who can tell you when your breath stinks," and this might be true. Yet it seems to me that an even more loyal friend is one who can hang out with you while your breath is stinking (or, mutatis mutandis, when other bits are). It is someone who can look beyond superficial concerns like personal hygiene. It is someone who looks at what is on the inside, not at what has just been expelled.

Our society seems to place on a pedestal those animals who risk their lives for their loved ones. The Lassie who gets help for little Timmy down the well. The Old Yeller who heroically gets rabies and tries to kill his owners. But tell me, is it not more loving for an animal to perform a sacrifice that is ultimately unnecessary? If Lassie did not summon Timmy's parents, Timmy would have died; Lassie had to make this sacrifice if she ever wanted to see Timmy again in non-corpse form. However, if Cricket did not come into the smelly bathroom, I would not have died; I would have eventually come out and petted him anyway. The point is, my presence was so important to Cricket that he would make any sacrifice, however gratuitous and seemingly pointless, because he loved me and wanted to be with me at that exact moment. Whereas the juvenile response would be, "Smelly bathroom, icky!" Cricket responds with maturity and sensitivity, seeing the call of friendship as no less obligatory than the call of nature.