Mr. Write's Page

par·a·noia

n. — A mental disorder characterized by extreme and irrational fear or distrust of those around you; baseless or excessive suspicion of the supposed hostile intentions of others; systemized delusions.

—————

My son Dustin and his family live a couple of miles from me in a neighborhood on the other side of Jefferson. Their house is on a cul-de-sac at the top of a hill.

At the bottom of the hill is a concrete storm drain designed to catch the rainwater that flows down the street. Every neighborhood should have one; mine doesn’t.

Anyway, a cat lives at the bottom of the hill, at the house on the corner. He or she is hard to miss, being snow white.

Now, I’ve never owned a cat or lived with one. My parents had a veritable herd of them, but that was after I went away to college. My experience with cats, therefore, is admittedly limited.

But I observe that domestic cats fall into two groups: cats that ignore and disdain humans, and cats that are terrified of any person or thing in their field of vision.

Two or three felines of the latter classification live in my neighborhood. Despite the fact that I’ve lived there for several years, drive past them daily, and never show a scintilla of aggression, they still scamper under a car or flee into the undergrowth when I drive down the street.

The white cat in Dustin’s neighborhood exhibits the same paranoid behavior. Each time I drive past, the cat’s eyes widen in terror, and it bolts into the storm drain where it is safe from my murderous intentions.

Until I vacate the area, the cat remains crouched inside its concrete fortress, staring out at me.

A couple of years ago, I was driving my granddaughter Maddie home. She was about three years old at the time. We turned onto her street, and there as usual, sunning itself on the driveway, was the white cat.

The cat looked up and saw us. In a flash, it disappeared into the storm drain.

“Maddie,” I said, “That cat lives at the house on the corner, right?”

“Yep.”

“Do you know its name?” I’m not sure why I wanted to know, but I did.

“Yep.”

“What is it?”

“Sewer Cat.”

I doubt if the cat’s owners call it that, but they should.

Sewer Cat perceives the threat...

... and flees for its life.

Better safe than sorry.