I love playing with cats, but they have a rather strange way of showing you affection. They would try to grab your hand and bite it. Such acts were obviously not performed with the intent to hurt, or with their razor sharp claws and deadly teeth, or your hands would be torn to ribbons in seconds.

Many would know what razor sharp means, but to truly appreciate how sharp it is, you will really need to play with a cat. It would be a rude awakening to the insufficiency of language to represent reality.

Last night, I was squatting down, playing with a passing, seemingly pregnant stray. I used my IS magazine to ruffle it, instead of my hands. It suddenly climbed onto my lap, claws extended. I could feel the individual talons through my jeans on my skin, threatening to tear it. I caught its eyes following my magazine, reading into its motives, I dropped it. And it scampered to the magazine, and sat down comfortably on it. No amount of coaxing could removed it, and I left with a sore ego, badly defeated by a feline.

Cats, love them, hate them, do they give a damn?
*laughs*
Perhaps in terms of self sufficiency, self confidence and individuality, we have a lot more to learn from them....