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Intellectual House o' Pancakes Webdiary

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2005-12-26 - 4:56 p.m.

I'm thinking of adopting a cat.

For one thing, I think it'll be a while before my lifestyle supports a dog (or tarsier), and until then it would be nice to have a warm, furry thing that I can yell at talk to and torment play with.

Also, my apartment has mice. Little dead mice are vulnerable and sweet, but living mice fill me with a primordial, shrieking terror.

And while I am ethically uncomfortable with using my human might to vanquish a little rodent, I have no problem with letting my future cat and my current mice duke it out amongst themselves, Wild Kingdom-style.

The problem I foresee is becoming a "cat person." First, the cat. Then the slippery slope towards the NPR tote bag. And before you know it, I'm wearing gardening clogs and elastic-waist-banded jeans.

Am I wrong? Cat people?

I have spent much of my adult life so pet-peevish about the epidemic misuse of the expression "beg the question," that I have been complete oblivious to the wrong way I've always used "moot point."

I apologize to the world now.

I was captivated by the first three minutes of Lina Wertmuller's Seven Beauties (my Christmas evening viewing), and then began to tire of it, and 30 minutes into it, I really started hating it. I can't remember ever being so mood-swung by a film.

thoughts? (21 comments so far)

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