I Know Why the Tamed Kitten Bites

I’ve been living with Amal, my cat, for about six months now, and I’ve made some pretty surprising observations. Amal is certainly not the first cat I’ve ever had, but she’s not like any other. I’d have to say that she’s a sweet kitten, but it’s just as often that I want throw her across the room. It’s not that she bites and scratches – sometimes from playing, sometimes just from pure evil – or that she wants to eat my bread, eggs, or dairy products, it’s her determination she exhibits when going after these things. You take her off the counter and she’s right back. You throw her across the room and she’s back biting your ankles before you can turn around. You pull her away from the cheese, and she’ll fight for it like a wounded badger. I’m not really used to this in a house cat.

But then again, maybe she isn’t really a house cat. I mean, the cats we keep at home are the product of generations upon generations of domestication. How far back in their ancestry do you think you have to go before you find one that lived out there fending for itself – either in the wild or the rat race of human civilization? Every cat I’ve ever had has come from either the pound or someone who forgot to heed Bob Barker’s sage advice, and there are plenty of others getting thoroughbred pets. There are cats out here that live with families, and some get fed, but it’s generally just table scraps. Some are allowed inside, but there are scant few that get inoculations or fixed.

So what’s this got to do with my cat? Well, Amal was born to a cat that lives in a carpet shop. I don’t know how many generations back this goes, but I’m fairly confident in saying that Minoosh, her mother, has at best a symbiotic relationship with the shopkeeper; she’s not domestic. Amal spent her first two months romping through the carpets and other tourist souvenirs, eating whatever she found and running away from the people she saw.

That’s why she has to be rated as a good cat. She’s the tamed savage, the disarmed warrior. She may be a demonspawn that has scarred my arms and feet, that regularly draws blood without any warning at all, but she’ll come over and snuggle you without any instigation, as well. Granted, you’ll eventually be digging her teeth out of your flesh, but that’s her nature. That’s to be expected. She’ll also nudge you awake in the morning to cuddle and be petted. It’s contrary to her instinct, and therefore virtuous.

She’s not going to win any blue ribbons, but she’s not going to roll over and play dead, either, and I guess that’s worth a few scratches.