by Sam T. Cat
Yet we may not dismiss the negative elements of such tentative connections. For in knowing that our state is not a solitary state, do we not also realize the agony of others?
Thus were my meditations upon viewing the short film below.
I beg of you: observe the simplicity of its beginning, in which a human child presents her argument—kittens, or the pictorial representations of youth—with the piercing voice of a sage or a prophet. Note that these are not simply representations of kittens, but presented by those aforementioned youthful fluffballs. Even the kitten, so innocent and soft, knows that life is fleeting, youth is ephemeral, and mature cathood possesses a despair so vast that it can only be overcome by napping.
Behold, if you dare, the ontological angst of the 29-second mark, in which the human child depicts the pain of youthful innocence and horrors of adult knowledge. “Ah!” she screams, shrilly, yet not, perforce, inaccurately. “Ah!” she continues. “Ah!” Thrice she screams, to represent the ages of cats and the sequence of knowledge, as taught by our great philosophers. Thrice she screams, to indicate the feline Freudian tripartite self. Thrice she screams, a vox clamantis in deserto.
The wilderness that is life, the desert that is the mortal world. We are all alone, we are all together in our aloneness. Or, in the words of the immortal Leo Tolstoy: Every happy animal is a dog; every unhappy animal is unhappy in its own feline way. "Ah!" indeed.
Sam T. Cat does not like to write a one-sentence bio about himself, and therefore he will not do so.