Andy Richardson: Weighing up why there’s such purring over fat cats
“Look at this.” She Who Must Be Obeyed was immersed in the onanistic world of smart phones. Gazing at her screen, she’d found something more interesting than the man to whom she’s been committed these past five years.
“Look.”
I sidled across the seat, reflecting on the fact that our phones are probably Our Significant Other. Were we ever to be foolish enough to walk down the aisle – not something I plan, given the two previous failed attempts – we really ought to commit to our Samsungs and iPhones, rather than each other. There are days when we literally WhatsApp each other while in the same room, rather than – you know – speak.
But I digress, as I am paid to do. And I’ll continue to digress until the fat lady is in full voice.
I looked. It was a picture of a cat big enough to be a dog. It’s owner was holding it, like some fat, fluffy, over-sized baby with four claws rather than arms and legs.
“It’s a cat.”
It was not, however, any old cat. It was a cat on a website for cats that are ‘chonks’. Still following? No. I wasn’t either.
There are forums online where cat owners, whose four-legged friends are particularly fluffy and rotund, hang out. And this was where she was. Rather than being present in the room with her Insignificant Other.
I asked what made it relevant. It transpired that our own fluffy, rotund pets were regular features of the website she was viewing. Great, I didn’t think. Now can we get back in the car and continue navigating our way around Iceland’s one functional road.
She showed me a picture. It was our nervous cat, Itchy, standing in the garden, seemingly stricken with fear as though a red tailed kite was about to pounce and carry him to some treetop nest.
Below the picture was a figure. 784. That was the number of people who thought Itchy was cool. I know it’s not exactly viral, but 784 human beings had invested a few seconds of their lives giving our cat micro-fame status.
I looked back at my own social media feeds. Twitter tends to offer between one and five recognitions – thank you James, thank you Grant. Instagram usually elicits 20 or 30, though at New Year I posted a picture of the 15 books I’d published last year and got to a mighty 88. Imagine that, publishing 15 flipping books and only 88 people care.
Actually, that’s wrong, thousands and thousands care enough to buy the damn things.
But while 784 human beings are daft enough to go ‘Awww’ at a cat, only 11% of that total process the publication of 15 books with the same affection. You know, that guy spent countless hours labouring over stories, writing hundreds of thousands of words, paying bills, making sure everything was in the right place at the right time – it usually was, but we won’t talk about the garlic bread recipe here – and then posting them out to thousands of people who thought they were not half bad.
Cats. Cats. What is it with cats? All our neurotic cat has to do is stand in front of a hedge, sniffing the air, and people from South Korea, Germany, the UK and the United States of America consider it a hero.
Look at that cat, they must think. Isn’t it incredible?
No. It’s just a cat. It’s sniffing the air. It’s what cats do. Man, I can’t get arrested when I publish 15 books but the world and its wife swoons when the cat stands still in the garden.
Where did it all go wrong? And where did it all go right for the cat with the shiny nose and fluffy fur?
If popularity were what decided the important stuff in life, ours would be Prince Itchy of The West Midlands, Lord of all that it surveyed.
There is, of course, another side to the cat who looks handsome and fluffy and cute. And it is dark, brutal and nerve-shreddingly visceral. Particularly if you’re a wren that’s somehow managed to fly into the house that the cat is resting in.
I saved the wren. I hope I get 785 likes.