Having told his life story, the famous Meowcat, the Adventurous Kitty, now seeks to turn his attention to the Great Issues that affect all catkind. First up, he proposes to tackle the greatest of all Great Issues–namely, that which is expressed by the question: Why is it that two hands feel more than twice as good as one?
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Excerpts
Now that I have told my life story and the many ways in which I officially earned for myself the epithet The Adventurous Kitty, I shall turn my attention to the Great Issues that affect all cats, and it will be my intention to define and discuss each in turn. Unlike my First Book, I intend to here mention my life and exploits as little as possible, and any cat who finds himself interested in me by way of what I here record should, therefore, direct himself to my First Book, which may, time and fortune willing, be readily available.
Having considered the matter fully, it seems to me rather obvious that the first Great Issue to be discussed in this, my Second Book, should be that which is both most near my fellow felines as well as most wondered over by us all, though this latter aspect is conducted at such an instinctive level that it is doubtful whether many are even aware that they have ever philosophized on the matter. I mean, of course, the Great Issue that is best summarized in the question: Why is it that two hands feel more than twice as good as one?
-opening to “Book Two”
What the cat familiar with my First Book will not know about my time living in the area of The Dogged is that, before I left to enlist in the service of the famous Liza, the Full-Tummied Kitty—I was, of course, unsuccessful in the endeavor, as my First Book documents—I lived for over two months in competition with a cat named Scooby, and the two of us got along little better than a cat and a dog.
Scooby was a provincial who, as far as I know, never left the yard of his Inside except to bully whatever poor cat happened to be trying to make a living in his cul-de-sac—I refer to it as his cul-de-sac because that is how Scooby himself referred to The Dogged, though I did, however, eventually make him learn otherwise. The way in which this reeducation happened is that, during a sunny afternoon that had been filled with Scooby’s taunting, I finally had enough, and I ran at him claws-out, though unsure myself of what I was doing or going to do.
“Are we fighting?” Scooby asked as I danced about him. “Are we fighting?”
At that moment, I immediately knew what would be best for me to do, even though I had never yet been in such a situation. I forced myself to become calm, and I looked at Scooby as if he were a Prize that I had had my eye on for some time. Then, I controlled my breathing in a rather loud way, such that it sounded as if I was having trouble keeping it contained within myself, and I merely said: “You tell me.”
-from “Book Two, Part One”
Before, however, we begin our final ascent to answer, it is worthwhile—it is, perhaps, even necessary—to issue a reminder that this Great Issue of ours is of so large a scope that it surpasses sheer catkind. My fellow felines may not like to admit the transcendence of ability, but even the most unfair observer must admit that dogs—some of them, at least, if not most—are thought-filled enough to both want pets and understand the wanting of more. Certain cats, I am aware, deny to dogdom any thoughts of the higher plane, but such prejudices show their stomachs enough for us to proceed without address. Instead, a few words will be said on the former argument, which was that of dogs being able to want pets in a similar way to how we do.
As the cat familiar with my First Book will recall, I had my fair share of adventures with that pack of dogs—I here note, for the careful Official, that my usage of pack does not qualify as hyperbole since that Inside at no point in my life has featured less than four of the animals—who live at the Inside commonly called The Final Triangle, though I have also heard younger cats refer to it as Far-End. This latter term, however, is but a shortening of where that Inside is located since it, first, is on the street that is at the farthest end of our World in that direction, and second, it is the last Inside on that farthest street—this latter aspect is also, of course, the reason for that Inside’s large, triangular front yard.
What the cat familiar with my First Book will not know is that I once had a conversation with the dogs of The Final Triangle that was not eventful enough to feature in the exploits of my First Book, but it is, upon reflection, a conversation that perfectly fits our need to show the transcending nature of our Great Issue. As such, it is worthwhile to here include it in full.
-from “Book Two, Part One”
The cause of this disruption to my favored commotion was—as I soon learned—the appearance of two dogs, one big and the other little. I cannot now recall the name of the big dog, but the little one was that infamous animal named Pepper, who is commonly called The Catlike. For a history of this most scheming member of all dogdom, the interested cat may consult my First Book, in which are also featured a few of the times when I was forced to outwit him. Unlike those occasions, however, the instance on this day in The All-Ground featured no design on either of our parts, and I was later able to confirm that Pepper did, indeed, come upon me by accident. I should note that I cannot speak to the truth of the rumors about that dog’s origins, but if it is true that a human-wide proscription was, at birth, personally declared against him by the Highest Human, it would explain both his wandering state and his accursed nature.
By the time that I was aware of The Catlike and his companion—the cat familiar with my First Book will recall that Pepper, through whatever means he possesses, has always been able to induce a big dog to join his detestable existence—they were already too near for me to run, and I knew that any quick movement would chance the notice of the big dog, which would almost certainly trigger the animal’s instincts to chase. Let me add that, though it is what no cat likes to admit, I instantly realized that, based on estimations of size and speed, the big dog would likely run me down before I even reached any witness. I decided, therefore, to appear as confident as possible, and I sprang out from where I was hidden. I can say that the dogs were astonished, and I could tell that Pepper was suddenly worried that I had laid for him an ambush, which was a misinterpretation of his that I was counting on.
-from “Book Two, Part One”
I do not wish to here initiate a debate upon the depth of a dog’s mind, but it must, I think, be admitted by any honest cat that the few words of Chester’s that I happened to hear on this day at The Final Triangle, coupled with their context, amount to a proof that the animal in question was thinking upon our Great Issue. It was not until months later that I myself came to the realization of what I had heard, but once recalled, it has not been forgotten; furthermore, I willingly attest to my own surprise upon discovering that a dog could bark beyond immediate surroundings, but there is, I think, left no doubt that Chester was, in his own way, asking: Why is it that two hands feel more than twice as good as one?
The ultimate question of the competence of dogdom, which we seem to be encroaching upon, will here be left to the Officials—their recorded debates on the matter should be consulted by any interested cat—and we may now likewise take leave of the dogs of The Final Triangle with the final reminder that they have thoughts of pets in a way very much like our own.
Our Great Issue now having been put to its proper bounds, our definition has a grounding that will not upset the leap, and we can, I think, boldly enter upon our investigation into its answer. The most central as well as most common of all Great Issues—these aspects were demonstrated above—this Great Issue of ours is that which is so familiar to the mind as to be often left unaddressed by it, and in the instances where inquiry does occur, its energy rarely reaches further than a recognition of the problem and an acceptance of its mystery. Lastly, it cannot be forgotten that our Great Issue passes beyond the limits of catkind, so any answer must be able to do the same. Why, we ask, is it that two hands feel more than twice as good as one?
