Tuesday, September 02, 2008

My spindly obsession and on why I like cats

lil spidey

My Cat will eat all the spiders.

Cats eat spiders. I have seen it happen. Not once but many a time. They eat all kinds of them. From the small short legged fat butted ones to the spindly legged dark dirt coloured creepy crawler from the bowels of hell, all fair game. I suppose they find them to be exotic. You dont always get to dine on them but when you do, Oh Boy!! mmmm... I mean think about the kind of choices they have. Its like when I have an urge to eat crab. Most people scoop out the meat from the shell but I find that dull. I like to crush it open with my thumb and then crunch on them... mmmm... I love fish. A lot. But crabs, they are a delicacy. I guess the same applies for them felines. Spiders are a kind of delicacy. Like how the sight of a big one gets my heart to go on an Olympic run, I suppose the cats just get plain ravenous.

My morbid fascination/ obsession with spiders leads me to scour through huge encyclopedias on a frequent basis for some really really freaky spidey pics. Yeah, its called know thy enemy. Thank you, Sun Tzu. Sad to say these situations always end up the same way. Me in one corner and the fat old book in the other both engaged in a staring contest, each willing the other to make a move; me for it to come alive and it, well 'it' does not really have a reason. Sooner or later my morbid desire always wins out. I open it again. I need to see them... these demon insects... capable of extreme stealth with their eight disgusting legs, hiding in places we trust to be safe, waiting for that one opportune moment.

Although from a detached point of view, for a brief moment I could say that these little insects who help mankind by eating flies and mosquitoes just want a warm place to live. And they merely are trying to escape when you chance upon them on your favorite quilt.

And now that the brief unrealistic moment of actual truth has passed over us with little to no consequence we shall reconvene to my morbid world where the sole purpose of their existence is to keep me in a perpetual state of fear and paranoia to such an extent that a shadow flitting past in my peripheral vision causes me to conduct an extensive reconnaissance of the general area.

I take sadistic pleasure in watching cats catch a spider. Their obsession with spiders differs from mine merely on the basis of the end purpose. They like to snack on them once they get bored of them. They toy with them and to my infinite pleasure they release them, allowing it to believe for one lonely moment in the middle of excruciating pain, that it can scurry away into safety. Oh! well so much for that, my beloveds will then proceed to crush them with their perfect little paws by tearing it apart limb to limb all the time making sure the last thin thread of life still remains within it. Such marvelous and delightful creature cats are. On the other hand, I just want to swat them into a grotesque mix of broken legs and squished body parts with a few barely discernible eyes dislocated to odd positions, I'm thinking, whats the use of having four eyes if they aren't pointed in opposite directions, and to top it all there is my glutoral cry, claiming a bloody victory, striking fear into their hearts or whatever manifestation of creepiness these demonoids have in its place.

Have you ever seen a spider fall? Let me try to put in simple words one of the freakiest creepiest sights ever to be witnessed by me. A chappal flung from a distance of five meters aimed at a certain corner of the ceiling failed to make total impact. The said surface to air projectile managed to coerce the target to take precautionary measures and eject from the ceiling. I remember watching the next few seconds in slo-mo. My gut wrenching internal conflict between the need to abandon ship and the desire to indulge in my morbid fascination for the enemy resulted in me standing there rooted to the spot. Spiders fall my dear friends, they fall flat , rotating with their own body as axis, eight legs spread out like a fan, slowing down as they reach closer to the ground. Its like a paratrooper from hell. The entire 101st airborne division could not have forced me into such a severe state of inaction like it did. Now when I think about it I can understand the general sentiment of the axis ground forces in France when they looked up hoping to see the clear blue sky but finding the vast sky littered with hundreds and hundreds of slowly descending troopers each rotating like a slow fan. Not that I am sympathetic to their cause, mind you!
 
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The Blue Drops by Anish B George is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-Non-Commercial-No Derivative Works 2.5 India License.