Feral Argument

We have several feral cats in the neighborhood, and, now and then, we tremble for the birds in our yard, birds that we see the cats stalking. Joyce is especially fond of a chickadee that has recently made its home (or resting place?) in a little birdhouse she hung on the wall on our front porch. One of the cats has noticed it, too--but so far it has been unsuccessful in its attempts to dispatch the little bird.

This morning, early, as I was getting up, I heard yowling outside. Not mewing. Not purring. Yowling. You've probably all heard it--it reminds you, at first, of angry infants.

I looked out our bedroom window (we're on the second floor), and saw not some brawling infants but two of our local feral cats facing off on the sidewalk out front. They were only inches from each other, frozen, except for an occasional tail flick (one would do it, followed by the other).

And, oh, the sounds! If I may translate:

• Cat 1: If you come any closer, I'll kill you!
• Cat 2: If you come any closer, I'll kill you!

Flicker. Yowl. Flicker. Yowl.

It went on for a while. Neither attacking. Neither moving. Neither yielding. Eyes locked. Both puffing their coats to increase the illusion of size--and, thus, of danger.

I got tired of watching and headed off to do my morning chores (unload the dishwasher from last night, etc.) When I got back upstairs (oh, about ten minutes later), I looked outside and saw they were gone.

No blood on the sidewalk--no puffs of fur--no corpse(s)--no displays of memorial flowers--no ...

I've seen both cats later on this morning--neither seems injured--or diminished--or cowed (can a cat be cowed?) (can a cow be catty?).

BTW: Cowed goes back a long way. Shakespeare used it in Macbeth, 1606 (?), near the end, when Macbeth learns that Macduff was not of woman born (something like a cesarean, instead). And Macbeth, who recognizes this sort of birth as part of the witches' prophecy, cries:

Accursed be that tongue that tells me so,

For it hath cow'd my better part of man! (5.8)

Anyway, I'm not sure what caused the cat-confrontation. Perhaps both were set on the chickadee, and there's just not enough to share? (Not that cats or other creatures are good at sharing--they really need some kindergarten, some Sesame Street.)

But what got me the most, I guess? The ugly yowls each was emitting. It was haunting.

And thought-provoking. In those two feral cats I saw our country--fiercely divided, threatening, yowling at the other, neither yielding, neither considering even the possibility of compromise--the possibility that the other side might, you know, have something worthwhile (or true) to say, neither listening to the other, each assailing the motives of the other, each imputing to the other some vile behavior, each firmly attached to conspiracy theories, neither really caring what the other has to say ...*

Later, I bet those cats went back to their phones and posted some nasty memes on Facebook. And got lots of Likes. Maybe a few Hearts.

*Don't get me wrong--we don't compromise with racism, with homophobia, xenophobia, misogyny, etc. But can't we agree on anything that will help advance and improve this country? If not--'tis hopeless. And the yowls we hear are the opening salvos of another civil war.