A Sentimental Moment with a Cat

This past weekend, I had an on-campus visit at a college. But I don't want to talk about that. I want to talk about our cat, Cricket.

The night before my departure, our cat Cricket was cuddling with me. I was thinking, "I'm gonna miss the little guy over the next couple of days. Look how cute he is, as I pet him with wild abandon."

And then ...

I noticed his dandruff.

You see, before the cuddling had commenced, I had just gotten out of the shower. Consequently, my torso was completely shirtless. And as I was petting Cricket, I watched in horror as little flakes of kitty dandruff roved free of their furry moorings and sought to attach themselves to my skin. I suppose it's a little bit of a double-standard, since I am not actually "horrified" when little flakes of my own dandruff are attaching themselves to my skin. Come to think of it, since dandruff is skin, that would be like saying that I'm not horrified when my skin is attached together. I would, of course, be rather horrified if my skin weren't attached to the rest of my skin.

Anyway, the point of this entry wasn't so much to gross people out as to reflect on how a truly poignant moment can be ruined when truth, in all of its matter of fact about dandruff, broke in. And that I really wish there were a way to communicate to cats that they needed to work on the dandruff--cats are very lacking in self-awareness. There used to be those helpful Head & Shoulders commercials with various "friends" dusting off their friends' collars and saying, "Whoa, Nellie! You got some problems!" (Loose quotation.) You can't do that with cats. Or rather, you can do it, but they stare at you blankly. I suppose they are like ancient Israel,

"Though seeing, they do not see;
Though hearing, they do not understand."

And as the proverb goes,

"The leopard cannot change its spots,
Nor can the kitty its seborrheic scurf."