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 Sunday October 23rd 2016Tim Candler9

 

     No Cat in his or her right mind will greet a stiff breeze with anything other than disdain, and this is especially the case if the breeze contains a suggestion of chill. They'll peer from a warm doorway, rightly cast blame at the two legged for upsetting the elements, then they'll return with what remains of their dignity to one or other of many day beds where they'll sleep in glades of blanket until supper time. But the Girl Cat doesn't do this. She's either fascinated by the change of season or she might not actually be a properly adjusted Felis Catus Domestica and could indeed still have an inner Felis Sylvestris coursing through her veins, a demon just waiting to break every last rule in the Domestica book.

 

 

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    But I guess in our own species there are also both anomalous and eccentric behaviors. Take for example, an English Boarding School Rugby Master, or Coach in charge of character building. They are, or were, very fond of making people get half naked, yelling something about the Fields of Waterloo, then dragging everyone into the frigid outdoors and forcing them to run around in mud chasing oval shaped leather balls. It wouldn't have been so bad had the authority in question not seemed to be thoroughly enjoying the experience of risking hypothermia. In the end a person just has to accept the fact that creatures will follow their muse and if they do get stuck up a tree, or in the belly of a wolf, or mistaken for a Rabbit by Barred Owl, or roll around in Barn Dust then Kismet can be the only solace.

 

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