Catspaw

 

Catspaw

Catspaw, sometimes called a catsclaw.

Image courtesy Wikimedia Commons

Catspaw is a name applied to a few things, apart from the obvious, of course.

It can be a light breeze on calm water which creates ripples, apparently. Barnacle Bill, who lives with me, had never heard or used the expression in his many years of sailing. Ah, well, learn something new every day.

For carpenters and those who want to attempt do-it-yourself tasks around the house, a catspaw is a heavy-duty metal tool with a V-shaped tip, which is used to extract nails from wood.  It is sometimes called a nail puller or a cat’s claw. Hammers which have a head with a hammering end and a V-shaped end are known as claw hammers.

 Claw hammer

Image courtesy Wikimedia Commons

In the US, ‘cat’s paw liability’ refers to cases in which”a biased individual passes along negative information about a worker to an ‘unbiased’ decision maker. The ’unbiased’ decision maker then takes a negative action against the worker based on the information provided.”

In UK law an equivalent doctrine, though not known under the ‘cat’s paw liability’ states that “an employer can be held vicariously liable for an employee’s discriminatory dismissal, even if the actual decision-maker is completely unbiased.”

Perhaps the most common application of ‘catspaw’ is as an idiom for a person manipulated by another to do their unpleasant or dishonest bidding. It originates from a 15^th century fable which became famous in the 17^th century when recounted by the fabulist Jean de la Fontaine (1621-1695)

‘The Monkey and the Cat’ (Le Singe et le Chat) tells how Bertrand the Monkey persuades Raton the Cat that they can share the roasted chestnuts in the fire if Raton will scoop them out of the embers. Raton complies, but as he pulls out the nuts, Bertrand gobbles them up one by one and Raton receives nothing but burnt paws.

The fable is also the source of the expression, ‘to pull someone’s chestnuts out of the fire’ – that is, to undertake a hazardous task for someone else’s benefit.

 
The monkey and the cat painting, 1739, by Jean-Baptiste Oudry (1686-1755)

                                    Image courtesy Wikimedia Commons

 

Cat

 

This is a slight reworking of a post I wrote many years ago.

Cat

                                            Winston Ocicat 

I am Cat. I grace you with my presence when I so wish, and recline on your lap, kneading and needling with my claw-sharp paws, primal recollections of comfort and warmth awakened in my memory-rich brain.

I loosen my fur and give it to you. I smile when it tickles your nose and you sneeze.

I pull your hand to me with my curled paw, and caress it with my head, over and over, my scent mixing with yours. I lick your skin with my rough, pink tongue, and you do not stop me for you fear offending me. I bite you, gently, and you do not withdraw. 

I possess you, and you love me.

I speak to you in different voices. I cry when I am hungry, ever louder, if you do not answer my needs swiftly. At other times, my tone is gentle, pleading, kindly. My meaning is difficult to understand, but I repeat until you learn, and then I am content. Sometimes I just want you to talk to me - then I beg politely with a silent miaou. 

The silent miaou. 

I like the fireside, and thank you for it. The heat melts my bones till I lie limp and sated. Outside, summer sun saturates me while I dream of other ages and lands. I twitch my paws and whiskers, flick my ears and call out. I am Cat, ancient as time, wise with atavistic memories. Through the centuries, I have been honoured, worshipped, abused, abandoned.

 I am a god and I am dust.

 My instincts are ancient and inherent. I watch the birds and chitter. I chase the sunbeams. I capture moths. In the small, wee hours I prowl and yowl, then join you in your bed, curling against you, lightly pinning your arm with mine.

 I have no need to earn my place in your home – it is my right to allow you to serve me. I may catch a fly or chase a spider if I wish. I will hunt a rat or mouse, because I want to. You cannot train me, but I will educate you.

 When you please me, I give you my sweetest gift – a rumbling reverberation from deep inside that makes you laugh and wonder at the skill with which I continue to purr, breathing in, breathing out, breathing in, breathing out.

 I am Cat. I am yours and you adore me.

 

The cat on the hat

 

The cat on the hat

 

The cat sits on his master’s hat, 

And slowly gazes round;

This place is better than a mat

And high above the hound.

 

His claws are sheathed in velvet paws,

With eyes half-closed, he naps;

Twitching his tail, he gently snores,

Dreaming of mice, perhaps.

 

Alas! Alack! His brother’s back,

Time to vacate the cap,

Anything to avoid the whack

Of a less than friendly tap.

 

                                                      

Cat and mouse

Not your usual cat and mouse game!

Saturday Centus #55

Jenny Matlock hosts this weekly meme. Thank you! J

Her challenge to participants is to use the prompt and up to 100 more words to produce a piece of writing in any style. Click here to read more and perhaps be inspired to join in! The prompt is in red italics.

*  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *

Everyone had gone out leaving Leo to enjoy the solitude. He luxuriated in the thought of hours of self-indulgence.

It was a sunny morning and he spent a considerable time watching the garden birds. They were unaware of his scrutiny and he amused himself with thoughts of creeping up on them.

Tiring of the birds’ antics he decided to go upstairs. As he walked through the house he stopped, then stiffened - he had not expected to see anyone, so the reflection in the mirror startled him.

He hissed and lashed out but all he felt was the cold glass and not another cat.

(99 words excluding the prompt)

Blogging from A to Z April challenge Cat

I am a cat. I grace you with my presence when I see fit and recline on your lap, kneading and kneading with my claw-sharp paws, primal recollections of comfort and warmth awakened in my memory-rich brain.

I loosen my fur and give it to you. I smile as it tickles your nose and covers your clothes.

I pull your hand to me and rub my head against it, over and over, my scent mixing with yours. I lick your skin with my rough tongue and you do not stop me for fear of offence. I possess you and you love me.

I speak to you in different voices. I yell when I am hungry and you do not answer my needs swiftly. At other times my tone is gentle, pleading, kindly. I know my meaning is difficult to understand but I repeat myself so that you learn and I am content. Sometimes I just want you to talk to me and I ask politely with a silent miaou.

I like the fireside. The fire is hot – it melts my bones till I lie limp and sated. In the summer the sun saturates me and I dream of other ages and lands. I twitch my paws and whiskers, my ears flick and I call out. I am a cat, ancient as time, wise with atavistic memories. I have been honoured, worshipped, abused, abandoned. I am a god and I am dust.

I live indoors. I have no care to step outside but I watch the birds and chitter. My instincts are intact. In the small, wee hours I prowl and yowl then join you in your bed, curling against you, lightly pinning your arm with mine.

I do not earn my place in your home – it is my right to allow you to serve me. I may catch a fly or chase a spider if I wish. You cannot train me but I will educate you.

When you please me I give you my sweetest gift – a rumbling reverberation from deep inside that makes you laugh and wonder at the skill with which I continue to purr, breathing in, breathing out, breathing in, breathing out.

I am a cat. I am your cat and you adore me.

Unusual visitor

Do you remember our Scottish visitor last June? I was very excited by her presence and rather sad when she finally departed to complete her journey home. 


This week another guest came calling. When I glanced out one day as the sun was shining - it hasn't done that very much recently  - I spied an unusual visitor to our bird table. 


She (I think it's female) was beautifully and colourfully marked and quite large. I didn't see her arrive but she stayed for quite a while, enjoying the warmth of the sun and the company of birds small and larger, none of which approached her closely. Birds are wary of strangers, I find.


She appeared to be very comfortable and was obviously snoozing, all worries of the world forgotten. Quickly I alerted Barry so that he could photograph this beauty. After a while she turned round and gave us a better view of her pretty face. Now we could see that she had large, yellow-green eyes She was enjoying the shelter she had found; she only just fitted under the roof but I know this species -  very supple and able to fit their bulk into surprisingly small spaces.


Eventually she departed but I expect that she will return to her comfortable vantage point the next time the sun shines and she's feeling peckish.

Cat versus printer

Susannah just sent me the link to this video clip. If you are offended by strong language please mute the sound.

Friday Flash 55 Morning rituals

Friday 55 Flash Fiction is brought to you by G-man (Mr Knowitall). The challenge is to write a story in exactly 55 words. If you want to take part pop over and let G-man know when you've posted your 55. 

Cat miaous.

Dogs whine.

Time to rise.

Too early!

Help old dog downstairs.

Let old dog out.

Younger dogs out.

 All in. 

Dogs watch every move.

 One day they’ll trip me!

 Feed cat in one room.

 Feed dogs in another.

 Noise recedes.

 All dogs out again.

Then daily tablets and medications.

All animals sleep.

Peace!

Revolving doors

Before I embarked on this piece of completely superfluous writing I thought I had better investigate to discover whether 'revolving door' had an official nomenclature in the way that a moving staircase is correctly called an escalator and a lift is properly an elevator. I discovered that it hasn't. Wikipedia informs 'H. Bockhacker of Berlin was granted German patent DE18349 on December 22, 1881 for "Tür ohne Luftzug" or "Door without draft of air"' and that 'Theophilus Van Kannel, of Philadelphia, was granted US patent 387,571 on August 7, 1888 for a "Storm-Door Structure".'
Thereafter it was commonly known as a revolving door.
Whether they revolve clockwise or anti-clockwise (widdershins, like witches!) depends on which side of the road vehicles are driven. Now I wouldn't have thought that vehicles would need to enter buildings at all, let alone through revolving doors, and I was right! In fact, I am at a loss to understand why the direction in which they turn would make any difference. I drive on the left-hand side of the road in a right-hand drive car. I gather that revolving doors in this country turn counter-clockwise allowing my fellow Brits and I to enter and exit buildings only on the right side of the door. Citizens of countries who drive their left-hand drive cars on the right-hand side of the road should expect their revolving doors to turn clockwise, meaning they enter and exit constructions only on the left side of the door. Apparently this is not always the case. Counter-revolutionary designers and builders at work there, perhaps!
I have thought for a long time that revolving doors might be useful in our house. There are quite lengthy periods when Barry, the dogs, the cat and I are the main inhabitants (I don't class spiders, silverfish and assorted other invertebrates as residents) but there are many occasions when so many people and dogs are seeking access to the indoors, or the outdoors if they're already in, that revolving doors would make sense. Actually, it's the dogs that would benefit most from such an installation in the sitting room as they seem to prefer solitude when they're going into the garden. This means that my time is taken up with opening and closing the patio door as they exit and enter in turn. I half expect them to queue at the door, next in line for the great outdoors. Sometimes I simply leave the door open but this can be rather uncomfortable in winter when the rain is lashing and howling winds cause shivers.
The front door arranged as a circulating entrance and exit would be useful for family. Five arrive, three leave, another one appears and then they all go. It's rather like the ebb and flow of the tide. Numbers can rise from two humans and five animals to seven people and seven animals (there's a pleasing symmetry to that!) then another two humans appear, sometimes with a cat, then another two, and one more and finally the last five arrive. We play musical beds, too, though not quite Cox and Box as people stay at different times for different periods. The house is very quiet when the last visitor/s leave and feels rather empty, notwithstanding four dogs and a cat, but I am always thankful that I don't have to run a Bed and Breakfast establishment. Catering for my family is a labour of love and though I generally like my fellow humans I don't particularly want to share bed and board with them.
I don't think revolving doors would look quite right in our house after all so we'll stick with the conventional accesses.