Casual observations of living with cats
If reincarnation is an after-death choice for a soul, I would choose to come back as a cat. Given that such a transfiguration is an option, my choice, I believe, would not be an original one. Certain sects of Buddhism believed when you die your soul is transferred to a cat for safekeeping. Upon the death of the cat and release from a kind of purgatory, the "chaste soul would ascend to paradise."
Wikipedia notes that cultural depictions of cats go back 9,500 years. The felines are central characters in legends in many parts of the world. In Egypt cats were considered deities, portrayed on tomb walls, and mummified along with many high-ranking officials. Legend recounts a Kingdom of the Cat in northern Scotland. Looking into the eyes of a Norwegian Forest Cat and the fairy world is said to be revealed. The maneki-neko, a Japanese figurine, is believed to bring its owner good fortune.
Some early Christians claim that Jesus would not stop crying when born until a tabby cat jumped into his crib and the cat's purring lulled him to sleep. Cats are revered by Muslims. In "Kedi" (cat in Turkish), director Ceyda Torum's documentary about the street cats of Istanbul, a man says, "Cats are aware of God’s existence. Cats know that people act as middlemen to God’s will. They’re not ungrateful, they just know better.” A quote which leaves me asking: What am I arranging between God and my cats?
Unlike dogs (which I also love), research points to cats being self-domesticated. The development of agriculture brought the need for storage of grain. With that the rodents came. The cat saw an opportunity. Why roam the countryside exerting oneself chasing wily animals always on the alert for a predator when their cousins congregate in one place to feast on easily obtained food? It was a no-brainer with the added succor of being treated as mystical being and some sort of living gateway to the divine — except in the Middle Ages during the Black Plague when cats were viewed as being teamed with Satan.
Like humans, cats have a hidden ferociousness. In big cats, lion and tiger, they can become maneaters. Through a variety of reasons — health issues concerning the cat, loss of food sources and destruction of habitat, protection of young, and simple mistaken identity — humans are attacked. I'm sure such an encounter can be a terrifying event but it's worth noting the main predator and killer of humans are other humans. Like all wildlife, left alone with their home territory intact, disruptions in natural rhythms would be rare. Perhaps big cats — with the exception of jaguars, which are called gatekeepers to the unknown — never acquired the moniker of semi-divine like smaller domesticated cats. Thus, they are persecuted and lash out to kill their tormentors.
Though some dog lovers will object, only having a cat in your household can be an experience both primal, in the sense of being both essential and fundamental in recognizing your humanness, and empyrean in putting being human aside. The feeling can come by both watching cats and leaving them alone.
My 3-month-old Willis can stalk and corner a green anole in our home, softly pounding the top of it with its paw, not sure if it's a plaything or food, until I rescue the small lizard for a return outside. Meanwhile, Babycakes, my rescued adult cat, can be nowhere to be found, presumably asleep somewhere hidden. Cats sleep 40 percent of their lives, proof enough for me that they know of and can inhabit other worlds.
I am not alone with Willis and Babycakes. Neither am I all-knowing. But I know more than those without the company of cats.