Catopolis

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As most of you know, I’ve lived with cats for much of my life. A gorgeous, elegant long-haired gray and white lady I christened Star because of the markings across her face adopted me when I was four. Apparently, life in the house three doors south of my home wasn’t to her taste. With very little encouragement, and ignoring the strenuous protests of my mother as only a cat can, Star became “my” pet. (My oldest sister fed her, encouraged her to stay, and blamed it on me.) Star and her numerous offspring became close friends, homework helpers, and play-mates as I grew up.

I began to suspect that there was more to “domestic” feline society many years ago. I couldn’t get any of my furry associates to tell me more than snippets of things going on in that hidden level of existence. They didn’t want me to get in trouble with either the humans I had to live with, or with other cats. And especially not with the Goddess Bast, who might have taken offense and squashed my earliest investigations. She seemed amused instead. I persisted, trying to discover more of the unique society I knew must be brimming just beneath the human stratum. The longer I lived with cats, the more sure I was that they had communication and rich lives beyond what I saw.

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