More about memories—those created realities sculptured by time.

ImageI’m presently serving as a cat cushion.  He purrs so pretty–but I have no illusions about why he’s on my lap.  He knows he’ll get a treat eventually if for no other reason than that I have to go to the bathroom and don’t want to bruise his delicate psyche when it isn’t his idea to get up and leave.

But am I really traumatizing him when I place him on the well-cushioned ½ of my desk that serves as a cat bed?  Or are my memories faulty?  Has he really taken such umbrage when I “reject” him that he feels compelled to run off to hide for a day, or is it simply a brilliant ploy?


My first instinct is to say that cats aren’t that smart.  But then I look at the ½ of my desk I don’t use because it belongs to the cats and I wonder.  I don’t wonder for long, as his calming purrs are so very distracting.

I search my memories–as I scratch the cutest cheeks this side of a cherub.  His eyes close with pleasure, he lifts his head upward and my fingers stay in the same place so that he can guide me to just the right place.

It’s beginning to look more and more like the cat is in control of my mind. 

A cat has character but he’s always what he appears to be.  He has to have some degree of common sense exceeding anything I’ve experienced in my life to know just how to play me like a puppet.

Then again, Character and Common Sense seem to be realms the highly intellectual rarely care to tread.   If that idea isn’t scary, it should be.  Intellectuals gave us the atomic bomb and a very inefficient way to boil water to create electricity that is now polluting the Pacific ocean with radiation.   

We don’t seem to get it that one volcanic tantrum can send us into a year-round winter for a decade and if the best minds try to find a way to manipulate nature she has a nasty way of dealing with us reminiscent of a shoe coming down on a roach.   

ImageMy BAID (My, but alas I digress).  Back to memory.

Now, I’m going to shamelessly steal from myself the replies I left elsewhere.  It seems I’m smarter when I’m responding or replying to someone else’s blog.   Especially when there’s no cat in my lap.

Memory is a strange thing.  There are studies that suggest it’s easy to manipulate people’s memory.  It makes me wonder how much of my life was remembered correctly.

One of the funnier Star Trek next generation installments was the way that people remember events.  Number One was up on charges and during the trial that planet’s version of eye-witness testimony was played directly from the mind of the witnesses.  The words and actions were the same, but the way people perceived the event changed the intonation and body language completely.  It made one person’s formal interaction look like aggression or sexual innuendo to the other.

I’ve witnessed an argument between 2 people I know and heard each talk to others about it later.  The one whose shoulders were rounded as he took the abuse would later say, “I really gave it to him.  He’ll know better than to tangle with me again!”  The other one who was shaking a finger at his opponent would later say, “I tried to reason with him, but he just wouldn’t listen.”

Here’s where it gets weird.  I would try to tell them what I witnessed and both would laugh at me.  In unison, they would both say, “Everyone knows you’re not quite right!”

As Mr. Spock would say, “Fascinating.”

The cat is sleeping.  My legs are going numb but he’s just soooo cute.  Time to reach for the treats.

I think there’s still some chocolate pudding in the refrigerator.