Whenever I Play with my Cat .....

MagnifiCat


From this day forward, I make the rules... Understood ?

Are you sitting comfortably ? Then I'll begin...


My name is Cat. Short for Magnificat.

Magnificat anima mea Dominum. Et exaltavit spiritus meus in Deo',

In plain Latin, yes, of course I know what that means and no, even with my rudimentary Greek, it most definitely is not blasphemy.

I wouldn't dream of reviling God or anything sacred. Including Me.
The fact is, I'm beautiful. I'm a stunning, heart-stopping, totally wonderful achievement, and, unlike God, there's absolutely no doubt that I exist. If I scratch you, you'll bleed... Promise..

Which is, if you think about it, good news. It means you exist too.

If God really did make me, S/He did a magnificent job. If God didn't make me, no problem. I'm still here, still beautiful, still (trying to) be happy. Trust me, there really is no problem. I am.

Sometimes I think, sometimes I just am... Either way, me being me is important. Theologians, philosophers and Richard Dawkins waste time and forests, asking pointless questions about God or no God and why we're all here. I'm here to be me, and I have a very important job to do. Four, no, I miscounted, five people need me, perhaps more than they'll ever know.

In my kind of family, we don't bother with websites and national archives and all that rubbish. Only people who don't have any ancestors worth knowing need to look them up. Who do I think I am ? ... Me, of course, you're not listening... .I'll start again. I am Cat, short for Magnificat, lithe and sleek and beautiful. How often does Her Majesty the Queen scrap around online, wasting her life, trying to discover what her great-grandad did for a living ? *

That's called a rhetorical question. Doesn't she look wonderful...? So, of course, do I. Like Her Majesty, it's in my genes and I inherited a job for life. In a recession, this is always useful. Long moons ago, a great-great-great (better stop counting) uncle of mine was the Servant of the Living God. As his heiress**, it's my turn to counteract the powers of darkness, but I'm not quite sure where to start...

* Yes of course I know who he was. I'm quite good at history. Used to be, anyway, in a previous life.

* * Usually, inheritance is through the female. Cat law is guided by common sense. Inheritance through the eldest male was a freakishly stupid human choice, especially before DNA tests. Male primogeniture was imposed by ludicrous patriarchal societies and caused no end of trouble. Like Elizabeth and Victoria and our present gracious Queen, my great-great etc uncle Jeoffry was an exception. Litter after litter with not a single female, needs must, etc, but the Jeoffry experiment was a one-off.

16/01/2012