Catakism

All Catakists know that Cat is the most enlightened being on Earth, but they don’t necessarily know why. Here we must turn toward Eastern Catakism for the answer. The reason cats are so Zen is that they are born knowing a sacred mantra—the purr—which they recite many times daily.

When listened to carefully, the purr is almost the exact same sound a Nepalese monk makes when chanting the sacred om (seriously, give those monks a listen). Cat, like the monk, uses this sound to enter a state of profound peace and meditation.

How is it that a cat can get zero exercise, lie around all day, and yet fly into action like a finely tuned ninja at an instant’s notice? The purr. The purr is what keeps the kitty in the zone 24/7.

Here’s what humans don’t understand. Humans think the purr is a sign of inner peace. To Cat, though, the purr is a vehicle it uses to achieve inner peace. Therefore, the more stressful its environment, the more frantically the cat needs to purr in order to find peace. That is why cats often purr around humans.

The cat, you see, is never sure when the human is going to suddenly seize it under the front legs, dangle it in the air, and say, “Who’s the cutest squishy-squashums in the whole wide world?” in a voice so high pitched that it shatters the kitty’s Wedgewood crystal dining chalice.

Cat must keep herself in a constant state of physical and spiritual preparedness. And that is the purr-pose of the low rumble.

The thing that Catakists do that most distinguishes them as cat worshippers is talk to their cats. Cat-talk, in fact, can be regarded as the chief form of prayer in Catakism.

Believers converse with their kitties nonstop. From morning till night, and then in their dreams. Cat talk—like much religious prayer—is driven by our need for constant reassurance that things are okay between we the lowly human and Cat. So we toss out an endless stream of conversational gems to Tibbles, such as, “Who’s a good kitty? Tibbles is a good kitty,” “Who’s so cute I want to smoosh her to death with hugs and kisses?” and “Who’s so freaking adorable I want to roll her up into a rope and whip myself with her till I go insane?” (Catakists often express their uncontainable love for cats in terms that would result in their arrest and/or psychiatric commitment if taken literally.)

As part of their daily prayer, Catakists feel a strong need to narrate their daily activities to Cat … “Mommy is putting fabric softener in the machine now. Do you know why? So kitty’s blanket will be nice and soft. Now Mommy’s closing the lid. Do you know why? So kitty can’t fall in. Because Mommy loves kitty. Now Mommy’s going to empty the dishwasher. Look! All the people dishes go up there. And all the kitty dishes go down here. Now Mommy’s reaching for the vodka. Yes, she is.”

Kitty talk is not just a substitute for human talk. Most Catakists, if they’re being completely honest, would rather talk to cats than humans.

Do cats actually listen to anything humans say to them? Well, that is the subject of great debate, even among Catakists. One thing perhaps everyone can agree on is that cats listen to humans very selectively. And most of the time, they select “off” as their default setting. Which is perhaps why humans have such a compulsion to keep the vocal assault going 24/7.

When talking to a cat—i.e., begging for forgiveness, asking what Socks wants for din-din, making a confession, etc.—it is physically impossible for a cat lover not to lapse into a high-pitched, subservient, baby talk voice, much like a schoolteacher would use to plead to her third-grade class to practice their multiplication tables.

This vocal condition is known as the Feline Falsetto Frequency (FFF, or Triple-F). FFF affects approximately 99.8 percent of Catakists, and even some DICKs have been known to be affected when talking to Cat. Triple-F causes the edges of the vocal cords to vibrate involuntarily in the presence of a cat, raising the pitch several octaves higher than the person’s normal speaking voice. The cuter the cat, the more immediate and extreme the case of FFF. A kitten with disproportionately large ears and eyes can cause a case of FFF so extreme that the throat of the innocent cat worshipper can become constricted and the victim may pass out from a lack of oxygen.

Triple-F is nearly always accompanied by a compulsion to use invented words like “smooshums.” Science is less certain about why this occurs. Some say it’s because we think of kitties as our children and automatically want to talk to them that way. Others suggest it’s because we ourselves revert to mental childhood in the presence of the overwhelming cuteness of kitties.

But perhaps the servile, placating, walking-on-eggshells tone humans use with kitties is a reflection of their constant fear that Cat will tire of them and dismiss them with a casual flick of her paw.

Does a cat actually enjoy being spoken to like he’s a toddler who has somehow gotten hold of the nuclear codes? The jury is still out on that. Some scientists think cats have a significantly higher range of hearing than humans and do indeed respond better to high-pitched human voices. However, no studies have been conducted on this due to the fact that researchers have been unable to create a control group. That is, no humans can be found who are able to speak to cats in a normal voice, even for testing purposes. It’s been tried for centuries, and nobody has been able to rise to this seemingly impossible challenge.

When speaking to a cat, employ the Feline Falsetto Frequency under penalty of ex-claw-munication

Constantly speaking in a much-higher-than-normal voice to one’s cat reminds believers of the position cats hold in relation to humans: much higher.

Cats will often engage in two-way conversations with humans, answering each of their questions and responding to each of their statements with a perfectly intoned squeak or meow. Not all kitties choose to chat with humans, but some are such great chatters, their agents have received offers for them to host their own late-night variety shows (provided the kitty host could be persuaded to stay in her chair and not run backstage to partake in the delightful selections offered on the craft service table).

So, what’s going on here? Is kitty conversation just some form of reflex reaction on the part of cats, as non-cat people suggest? Are cats just messing with us? Those who don’t believe cat conversations are real have either never talked to a cat, or never talked to a Catakist. True believers have no doubt whatsoever that they engage in meaningful conversation with their cats. If you plan to challenge them on this, you might want to upgrade your health insurance policy and hire a bodyguard.

An unwritten rule of Catakism is that all conversations with kitty must be given priority over human conversations. Over work and social commitments. Over meals. Over household chores. Over romantic relations. Over hobbies and TV shows. Even over conversations with other kitties. And a kitty conversation, once initiated by either the human or the feline party, is over only when the kitty stops issuing mews, squeaks, and trills. (Warning: if kitty is feeling talkative, this might require canceling your plans for the evening.)

Studies are beginning to reveal that cat owners actually understand a far larger cat vocabulary than was previously believed, and vice versa (true). Cats may be able to understand not only many human words, but also a great many human gestures, intonations, and behaviors. While some Catakists find this research to be exciting, it also represents cause for sobriety. For if cats actually understand what we humans are saying, this has enormous implications for the way we live our lives.

If you wish to keep your living room upholstery urine-free and non-shredded, you might not want to say, “I’m thinking about getting a puppy,” out loud.

When you call each one your kitties “the best kitty in the whole world,” know that the others are listening and learning that your words can’t be trusted. Good luck next time you say, “Come on, try this cat litter, it’s the best!”

If you’re a DICK and you never want to see Twinkles again, just cheerfully announce, “I think it might be time to get Twinkles spayed.”

When you come in from grocery shopping, shouting, “I bought the cats the store-brand food ’cause it was cheaper,” know that you are igniting a feline hunger strike that could potentially last for months.

When you give your spouse the ultimatum, “It’s me or the cats,” realize from that moment forward the cats will be conspiring to make that choice easy for him/her.

Once humans realize how much cats really understand, it changes the fundamental nature of our “cute” and harmless conversations with them. This is even truer when humans understand what cats are really saying back to them.

Science tells us that once cats graduate from kittenhood, they rarely communicate vocally with one another. Cats are vocal only around humans. Virtually all of their “speech” is reserved for us. And why do they “speak”? Of course, it’s to make humans do things for them, such as pet them, feed them, let them in or out, and admire them. In other words, cats use their vocalizations to train humans. This is the profound difference between human-canine talk and human-feline talk. Humans use words to train dogs to do what humans want; cats use words to train humans to do what cats want.

Silent mew = Can you stand how cute I am? Maybe some adoration would be nice right about now.

Mirrrrrow (in a sing-song tone) = Okay, two-legged interloper, I approve of you, I guess, on a conditional basis, subject to review.

Hiss = You have pissed me off so much I actually think I’m a snake. Come near me and lose a finger.

Of course, there are many more. But here’s another scientific finding: cats not only have a general human “vocabulary,” but they also develop a large and unique vocabulary with each human, or group of humans, they are paired with.

Catakists learn to understand and appreciate all the subtleties of their cats’ speech. And the more the human understands, the more elaborate kitty’s communications become (at least that’s what Catakism teaches). A Catakist has no trouble understanding complex messages from kitty such as: “Um, yeah, about the litter box. Seriously?” or “Why are you paying attention to [fill in the blank] when you could be paying attention to ME?”

And some believers claim they can understand even more sophisticated and specific communications such as: “Remember that show we watched together on Animal Planet a few weeks ago? Not the one with the ostriches—that one gave me nightmares—but the one about cultures that worshipped cats? You had a drink, I had one of those freeze-dried chicken hearts. We cuddled. Yeah, can we cue that puppy up again? Glad we have it on-demand.”

Whether Catakists can really understand their cats at such a high level of specificity or just need to call in a refill on their medication is not fully known.

Catakists do more than just interpret what they believe their cats are thinking, they put it out there. Whenever they are not talking to their cats, they are talking for their cats. This is the ultimate way in which Catakists humanize their kitties.

To listen to a Catakist talk for a cat is quite revealing, because 99 percent of the imagined thoughts of the cat revolve around how wonderful, important, and necessary the human is to the cat. For example:

“I wuv you.” The number one message we humans imagine cats want to tell us is how much they love us. Hmm, right. Even odder, this message is often delivered with an Elmer Fudd speech impediment.

“Pick me up, pwease.” Catakists have a never-ending itch to pick up their cats. On a subconscious level, though, they know this is annoying and disruptive to the cat, so they pretend the cat is asking for it. Again, note the Fudd-like intonation.

“Suitcases make me sad.” Whenever Catakists are packing to go on a trip, they imagine the sight of the suitcase breaks the cat’s heart. (Of course, the reverse is true. It’s the human’s heart that is breaking, imagining long days and nights away from kitty.) What the cat may be actually thinking is, “Awesome-looking box filled with black clothes for me to decorate!”

“I’m a bad kitty.” When something breaks or spills in the house, humans like to imagine the cat is skulking around with a guilty conscience. The cat’s actual attitude is probably more like, “Sh*t happens. Deal with it. Hey, how ‘bout giving me a snack? That usually makes you feel better.”

Cat is the psychological, spiritual, and emotional center of every temple of Catakism (i.e., household). The humans in the household give so much of their love and attention to the cat that they lose the ability to relate to other human beings in a healthy, human way. All interhuman communication ends up being mediated through the cat, and the humans become unable to communicate with one another when the cat is not present.

Icebreaker—Whenever there is awkward silence in the house for any reason, talking to the cat is a surefire way to get past it. Longtime Catakist couples have no idea how to spend time together without the cat, which is why they usually opt for takeout and Netflix rather than an actual date at a restaurant, where they might be forced to talk to each other … about the cat, of course.

Feline FedEx—Talking to the cat as a means of sending messages to other humans.

Example:

Woman to cat: “Well, Bathsheba, I’m going to the mall if your father wants to come.”

Man to cat: “Tell your mother that Daddy would rather chew on his own eyeballs than spend the next two hours hanging around The Furniture Barn with the other husband hostages while your mother ass-tests sofas into the ground.”

Woman to cat: “Fine, tell your father that if he doesn’t come, he’s going to be spending the next two years sleeping on that sofa, so he’d better hope Mommy picks a good one.”

Man to cat: “Tell your mother I’m getting my ****ing coat.”

Kitty Conduit—Another popular reason for talking through cats is to express opinions and render judgments that might be unpopular coming from a human mouth, such as:

“Kitty says, ‘I’m ready for Mommy’s mommy to go back to Delaware. I want my house back.’”

An alternate way of doing this is to say things to the cat that are really for someone else’s ear, like, “Look at you, Mr. Tubs, you’re getting so fat, Mommy’s starting to wonder if the lady cats find you attractive anymore,” or “I like talking to you, Snowball, because you don’t interrupt me every five seconds.”

Of course, every Catakist loves to talk about their kitties, past and present. No topic of conversation, from hot sex gossip to politics to the meaning of life, is as fascinating as talking about one’s own kitty.

Here are the three main topics of conversation around which the gospel of Catakism revolves:

My cat is so cute. How do you get a Catakist to talk about how cute her cat is? Answer: Remove the gag from her mouth. Anytime a believer is not conducting some other vital bit of cat business that actively engages her mouth—such as praising her cat or kissing her cat—she is, by default, talking about how cute her cat is. The real question is how do you stop a Catakist from talking about how cute her cat is? You can’t.

My cat is so smart. Every Catakist is convinced that his kitty is Stephen Pawking, Isaac Mewton, Garry Catsparov, and Alpurrt Einstein all rolled into one and looks for any opportunity to talk about how smart kitty is. Want to start a “my cat is so smart” conversation with a believer? No, of course you don’t. But you’re going to do it anyway just by accidentally blurting out the word “intelligent” or “brain.” The Catakist lies in wait for such a verbal trigger and then pounces like, well, a cat in the grass.

Example:

Normal person: “So we went to the parent-teacher conference, and Mrs. Perkins said that, based on Amy’s IQ …”

Catakist: “My cat’s IQ is so high, he can open doors with his paws.”

Normal person (cont’d) “… she should be able to handle the assignments. It’s not a question of her intelligence …”

Catakist: “My cat’s so intelligent, he can tell time.”

Normal person (cont’d) “… it’s more a question of us creating the right learning environment for her at home. We need to make sure her room is nice and bright …”

Catakist: “My cat is so bright, he knows the word “fish” in fifteen languages.

Normal person (cont’d) “… that all her pencils and crayons are sharp …”

Catakist: “My cat’s so sharp, he turns tampons into nesting material to trap mice.”

Normal person (cont’d) “Are you listening to a word I say? God, if I had half a brain …”

Catakist: “My cat’s so brainy, he designed and built his newest cat post”

Normal person (cont’d) “Never mind.

My cat is so weird. One of the main reasons Catakism exists on Earth is that cats never stop surprising humans. Just when you think you’re coming close to figuring out what makes cats tick, another cat comes along with another mystifying behavior that is totally incomprehensible. Every cat walking the planet has at least one baffling quirk.

the cat who steals thumbtacks from a corkboard and places them in her human’s shoes

When it comes to “my cat is so weird” tales, humans never run out of material.