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The Cat Menagerie began in 1988 as short piano
pieces for children. Modeled after Debussy's
Children's Corner, they are closer to Stravinsky
in style. All the movements depict actual cat
personalities, although sad-to-say, none are still living. The
last two left this world in the late Spring of 1999. I'm sure
the phantoms are a whole lot easier to catch now.
"The Jellicle Ball is not what it was."
Here is an old tomcat, the elder statesman, sneering lazily
at the tail-chasing, ball-baiting, toe-mauling, side-winding
kitten-things that assail his comfortable nap. Things were different
when he was young, let me tell you! (We shed a tear for your
memory, old Tom.)
"I'm off visiting cabbages and kings, but my tail will take
a message."
Sleep, blissful sleep. This is the life of the Dreamer. But
if you speak to him, his tail will answer. What far country did
you seek on that long-ago day when life at our house was not
enough? What fortune found you, and what images decorate your
dreams now?
"When you only have three legs it is a far, far better
thing to stay in one place."
No doubt it was humiliating, the odious day when a beastly
fan-belt or tire permanently appropriated his nether parts. Still,
humiliated is better than dead, and having made sure of so many
meals since then, wherever he is put is the best place to be.
That is, until the poking starts. Eventually he will tolerate
no more poking, so he hauls himself up and kalumphs off--but
not without a parting expletive!
| 4. He Who Hesitates Is Caught |
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"To run, or not to run,-hmmm..."
It's a predicament. You mind your own business, but the humans
keep lumbering by. Basically this cat likes people, but he prefers
not to be jerked in the air. Such a decision! If the cat is very
still, the human won't notice, even though the human is looking
... directly ... at ... Whoops! There goes a caught cat!
"Out of the depths of hair I cry to you-Brush Me!"
Bred to be a living teddy bear, he has too much hair and too
few brains. His hair ties itself in dissonant knots and slowly
rearranges the skin on his body. Owww!
"It's a tough job, but somebody has to do it!"
His cat-eyes see them everywhere. He has sworn a blood-oath
to expel them from the premises. Up the stairs he chases them;
down the stairs; across the bed; up-and-down the sleeping bodies;
through the window. None can escape his gaze! Not at midnight,
not at one o'clock, at two, or even four. Vigilance is his name,
and he never shirks his duty.
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