Dances With Cats

Copyright © 2014 by Dylan Gangale

@ThomasGangale

Nie Haisheng (my adopted cat sister, named for a taikonaut because she was born at a Chinese falekoloa) ventured out of the house this morning into the carport. Roxanne and Jane (Bette Davis Tongilava's fourth and last litter, named for a Police song and a Jefferson Starship song from the late 1970s, but I also call them Starfighter and Thunderchief, hence Bette and the jets) are tied up there during the day; they are too young to run around loose yet as our house faces a busy street.

Nie Haisheng, taikonaut cat

聂海胜，太空人猫

We have a large pile of sand to the side of the carport. One side is fresh sand for our cat boxes, the other side is used sand which sits out in the rain for a year or two to become fresh sand again. We are responsible cats; we recycle. Haisheng walked over to the sand pile, which is unusual for her; she usually goes no further than the steps. Bette came on the scene and got between Haisheng and the house, so Haisheng hunkered in the sand.

Bette Davis Tongilava

We all sleep on the bed together at night, but during the day it's a different thing. Bette is still getting used to living in a house with cats. Well look, she is still getting used to living in a house. A year ago she was feral and she chased cats mercilessly.

So there were Haisheng and Bette, facing off on the sand pile. Bette barked and lunged, and Haisheng hissed and spat. Occasionally Bette's eldest children, Denzel Washington Tongilava and Jadzia Dax Tongilava would join in, and at that point Tom, who was observing from the kitchen, would call them off. One-on-one didn't appear to be a threatening situation; the worry was that with two or three dogs on Haisheng the pack-hunter program would get loaded into the wolf brains, as happened with Alessandra the fascist pig yesterday. Two things to know about canine strategy: except when defending territory, as a rule they attack in numbers and they avoid frontal assaults. As long as Bette was 1 v 1 with Haisheng, it was cool. Bette looked Haisheng in the eye and barked and feinted, but she would not circle to Haisheng's rear. Sometimes Bette would lay right beside Haisheng and bark, and sometimes she would mouth her gently around the neck, much to Haisheng's distress.

As I watched, I came to understand that Bette was trying to get Haisheng to play with her like a dog, to run around and chase and wrestle with her. I could sense Bette's puzzlement: why won't the cat dance with me? Why does she just lay there, hissing and growling? After about 20 minutes of this Bette decided to go off and find something more interesting to do.

In the weeks since losing my brother Geharis Telemachus Rhade Fainga'a, I have wondered whether Bette was his last dance partner. I think they were dancing and in a fateful moment it got too rough. Although Rhade's wound was fatal, he wasn't torn all to hell, which is why I believe his death was accidental.

Gangale's Dogs and Cats: Stories, Songs, and Images

Thomas Gangale's Tales of Tonga