Post # 511 ANCHOVIE NIGHTS

The reader is clearly due a brief explanation of the title of this mini-essay and we will discharge that responsibility, prior to addressing its content. We are cat lovers and were desirous of obtaining a sibling for our cat, Cicero. We prefer the breed of felis domesticus, called, “Devon Rex,” for the reason that they lack the common sub-layer of dander, and so, are hypoallergenic. We decided on a name for the second cat prior to its acquisition (from a Devon Rex cat farm) and desired to give it one, not usually given to cats, one which we felt assured, was not replicated previously. The name selected, in anticipation of the newborn kitty, was “Anchovy,” which, for further assurance of novelty, spelled “Anchovie.”

Anchovie is cute, tiny, an all-white oddball in appearance. She is quite small, having only grown to one-half the size of her (normal size) older brother but, eerily, even as a full grown cat, still retains the petite face of a kitten, (as well as a “mew,” as opposed to a, more mature, “meow”).  Cicero, tragically, passed away last year, from a combination of old age and cancer, after demonstrating himself to be an affectionate, calm, intelligent, and child-like addition to our household. We are still adjusting to his loss, and still truthfully, in mourning. When they were together, the two cats, anthropomorphically, resembled a guiding elder, and a loving younger, pair of siblings. They would often be seen, sleeping together, Ying and Yang style. To complete the household roster, we have another, normal size, Devon Rex, named, “Koodoo,” after a beautiful antelope-type animal, seen on Safari. Koodoo is by some feline-nuanced persona, a loner.

In contrast to Koodoo, Anchovie’s avid thirst for being petted and fondled is literally, unquenchable. Unless she is eating or sleeping, her self-legislated, legal demand to be cuddled is ever presented. Going to bed in the evening is always accompanied by this mewing, kitten-like feline, purring and impatiently waiting, on the pillow, for the night’s somnambulant snuggle.  But more on this subject, in relation our more serious theme, later, in this writing.

We, as stated in the previous writing, are in quarantine, in Kingston, New York, yet, remain up to date on the horrific epidemic, it’s the dislocation of society, frightening numbers of infected, and concerning those, who have succumbed to the virulent pathogen, “Covid-19.” Together with a great many Americans, we are horrified and angered by the shocking extent of gross malpractice and verbal deception, practiced by our incapable and dishonest President; which exacerbated the impact of the viral outbreak, causing greater morbidity, in terms of infection, and a tragically immense number of preventable deaths

Neither are we, disturbingly unaware of the contagion of the virulent police epidemic, whose etiology resides in the unspeakable bigoted criminality of the great number of police unjustified, killings, of black unarmed, citizens, which, similar to the epidemic, has grown to pandemic size, [please also refer to blogpost # 511]. This holocaust- like experience was, also exacerbated, if not caused, by our ignorant and bigoted President, whose indirect statements and, all-too-subtle cues are seen as encouraging signals, to white nationalists (a loyal portion of his base).  We are aware of no responsible, statements of Presidential disapproval, of the behavior of the many police, who seemingly, feel protected and enfranchised by their Municipal badges, to commit random, racial murder against our fellow black citizens. On the contrary, we see only his devious propaganda, falsely seeking to avoid blame, by his attempts to deceitfully and pathologically misrepresent the issue as a conflict, between law and order and criminal behavior, and to cynically portray, the hateful bigoted, police murder of black Americans, as leftist inspired violence; perceived by this master of mendacity, as salutary for his errant political agenda.

It is difficult to contain our outrage at a miscreant President, who exacerbates the tragic experience of a potentially lethal epidemic, by his ignorant, gross negligence, compounded by his additional, refusal to responsibly and morally, condemn homicidal behavior towards black Americans (for which he is indirectly to blame); and instead, attempts to divert the true causes, pursuant to his fascistic agenda, to a false, attributive scapegoat.  Like a modern day Mussolini, he has encouraged the military use of metropolitan police and the National Guard, to engage the peacefully protesting crowds, with the autocratic tactics of clubs, rubber bullets, pepper spray, clubs, and beatings. This is illegal, un-American, and extremely dangerous to the recipients of such autocratic behavior, and, on an existential basis, to the very existence of our American Democracy. [In case the reader has not already done so, we recommend the disturbing and thought-provoking, novel “It Can’t Happen Here” by Sinclair Lewis.

We now, as previously, promised, return to an explanation of the title of this writing and to the overly cute, cuddly, and curious subject of amorous, little Anchovie. As previously stated, each evening, at bedtime, she mews and impatiently sits on the pillow, awaiting her nighty cuddled sleep, softly, steadily, and audibly, purring, like a tiny motor, in her advance, amorous, contemplation of our regular nighttime interaction

We then retire to bed, heavily bearing in mind, the daily, accumulated and profound, feelings of alarm and dismay at two epidemics, coronavirus and the ongoing, (justified), demonstrations against the evils of empowerment of armed and homicidal, bigoted police.

Anchovie, by contrast, with a full belly, and available warm human company, against which she nestles, purrs, completely care-free and comfortably, in her mini-pussy cat sleep. It’s a cat’s life, and just another one of our “Anchovie Nights.”

-p.