When people think "cat" they often associate the word with things like independence, intelligence, grace, and agility. That is not my cat. My cat, Zapp, has about as much grace as a bag of potatoes being pushed down the stairs. His agility is so honed that he skids around corners and into cabinets and walls. As for his intelligence...I don't know if tests exist that measure the mental capabilities of felines, but I have no doubt that if a test like that did exist, and I tested Zapp, he would fail spectacularly in the 'brains' department.
Zapp was not originally ours (my hubby's and mine). He originally belonged to a friend of ours who loved him very much (still does, for that matter, just from a lot further away) and doted on him, but she too had no delusions as to his mental acuity. When she was moving away and didn't want to take him with her to put him through the stress of ridiculous amounts of travel and quarantine upon arrival on a new continent, she asked us if we'd be willing to take him (because she knew we'd been wanting to get a cat, just hadn't gotten our act together yet to actually get one) and we excitedly accepted. This led to a meet and greet with Zapp and an information session with our friend.
She had been letting Zapp live as an indoor/outdoor cat, but only outdoor with supervision, so we all traveled outside to her yard and let Zapp go off and explore his apparently incredibly baffling surroundings that he got to explore at least once a week. As we watched him tentatively stepping through the grass, being startled by beetles and simultaneously terrified and fascinated by any nearby birds, our friend regaled us with this story:
She had lit candles in her house and Zapp, being infinitely curious (one of the cat-like traits he actually possesses), approached it with interest. Our friend watched him warily, worried that he'd get too close, but figuring that if he did, he'd learn pretty quickly about the dangers of candles. Sure enough, little Zapp stuck his nose in the flame, pulling it away really quickly when he realised that it was: a) hot and b) painful.
"So I thought, great, he's learned his lesson. Now he'll stay away from lit candles. He'll understand that fire is bad," our friend explained to us.
Me and hubby nodded along, thinking, albeit momentarily, that that was great because now WE wouldn't be responsible for teaching Zapp this important lesson.
"Buuuuut...."
The word "uh-oh" undoubtedly ran through both of our minds.
Apparently our brilliant cat, not fifteen minutes later, got curious again. The lesson of fire=hot/bad/pain had not stuck because he proceeded to stick his nose in the flame once more.
That is the kind of keen thinking that Zapp exhibits on a daily basis.
Our friend continued to give us information about how she cares for Zapp, his likes and dislikes, his bad habits, etc... and we continued to watch Zapp (who, I should add, won us over instantly because what he lacks in brains he makes up for in sheer adorableness) in his explorations of the yard.
Then the squirrel appeared.
Zapp saw the squirrel and got clearly excited. He decided that he wanted to chase the squirrel. He made a few bounds towards where the squirrel was perched on the fence. He must have been thinking something along the lines of "Oooh, squirrel, squirrel, squirrel, gonna pounce, gonna pounce." Until, that is, the moment when the squirrel took notice of him and started to move, at which point he was struck by sheer terror and probably a thought process that went "Oh shit, It moved. It's gonna get me. I'm gonna die." (Despite the evidence to the contrary in that the squirrel was running AWAY from him.) If you have never seen a cat attempt to switch directions mid leap, let me tell you, it's quite a comical affair. There was an expression of sheer panic on Zapp's face as his head swung around attempting to figure out how to get the rest of his body to actually respond to his change of plans, resulting in an awkward half twist in midair. He landed, unceremoniously scrabbling in two directions at once for a moment, before turning and racing along the fence back towards us and cowering behind some rocks.
He eventually, after the squirrel had long fled the yard (probably to run off somewhere to collapse in a fit of giggles), emerged, skulking along the side of the house back towards us, attempting, and failing, at regaining some of his dignity and seeming nonchalant while we continued to laugh heartily at him. He looked up at us with bright eyes that said, "What's funny? I don't get it." and our friend scooped him up comfortingly and decided that he'd had more than enough adventures in the yard for the day.
A few weeks later he came to live with us.
He provides us with near endless entertainment, and nary a day goes by without him doing something that makes me break out laughing. I share these accounts with my friend M on a regular basis, who has declared my need to set up a "Zapp-cam". I probably should, but until that time, I've decided to share some of Zapp's adventures with the blogosphere.
Stupidity like Zapp's simply needs to be shared.
