by Carrie Classon
“She was nervous as a cat!” is how the saying goes. I have decided this expression makes no sense. Our cat, Felix, is the least nervous creature I have ever lived with.
My old Newfoundland dog, Moxie, with her saggy jowls and lumbering gait, was much more nervous than Felix. Moxie was nervous about strange noises and things she couldn’t see clearly (which was most everything) and loud voices. She was very well-behaved, but sometimes would pull a butter wrapper out of the garbage — oh, so carefully — and proceed to lick every trace of remaining butter off that wrapper. Then, knowing she had done a truly wicked thing, she would wait for the inevitable reckoning when I would return to the kitchen, see the wrapper splayed out flat on the rug and say to her, “Moxie, do you know anything about this?”
At that point, her legs would visibly quiver, she would press her face against the wall, and she would look as if she expected the beating of her life.
I never once hit that dog.
She was just nervous. And she had a conscience. She knew she was not supposed to remove trash from the trash can — and despite many reprimands — she had done it. Again.
My cat, Felix, does not have these problems.
He regularly helps himself to the trash. He hauls out whatever he likes to see if there is anything tasty.
Usually, it is stale bread or an empty package. (He has perfectly fine cat food in his bowl the entire time.) If there is nothing interesting in the trash, he will look further afield. We had some leftover cookies of various types in a plastic bag on the counter, and Felix hauled the bag onto the floor and took one bite from each type of cookie. None of them were any good, apparently, but he did a very thorough test.
When, in the morning, my husband, Peter, or I discover his wickedness and yell at him, Felix looks at us, bored.
“People are ridiculous,” Felix seems to say, “They get worked up about the stupidest things.” Then he falls asleep.
I googled the expression “nervous as a cat,” and it comes from the idea that a cat moves very quickly and suddenly. It is used when a person is uneasy or overly alert. I don’t think Felix is uneasy in the least. But he is very alert. He can spring into action from complete stillness, zoom down the hall, bounce off the wall at the far end, return to hit the back of the sofa and land on a chair — all in a moment. He has a lot of fun doing this.
On the other hand, I am nervous. I worry about telephone conversations that happen and those that don’t. I worry about the things I say and the things I forget to say. I stew over what I should have done after I’ve done something and what I should do before I’ve done anything at all. I am in a more-or-less permanent condition of nervousness, and I’ve been watching my cat with interest because I think being nervous as a cat would be a big improvement.
I would love to be utterly relaxed and then spring into action when the situation seemed to warrant it. I would love to bounce off the walls just because it was fun to do. I think that will be my new goal.
The next time Peter asks me if I am worried, I’ll assure him, “Not at all. I’m nervous as a cat!”
Till next time,
Carrie
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