Cat-atonic

Know what? Napolean Bonaparte and me have something in common. How I wish I could tell you, that we both believe that there is no word such as 'Impossible' in our dictionaries. Unlike Mr.Bonaparte however, who must have referred a French dictionary, before he said that, mine has, not just 'Impossible', but also 'Improbable', for good measure. No! What I am referring to is something that I am not proud of, and which Napolean would most definitely not have been proud of - Ailurophobia.
The fear of cats, is something that seems to have afflicted me ever since my trip to Coorg recently, where a very daring cat(or was it a small tiger), probably mistook me for a mouse(I guess, the capybara is no longer the world`s largest rodent).When the most strenuous bit of exercise you have ever indulged in, involves a walk from the comforts of your couch to the dining table, you can be rest assured that even the most comfortable of walks will leave you with a gargantuan appetite. So, here I was after one such day, looking forward to pamper myself with the delicious, Chicken curry, redolent with spices, which had been prepared for us by our hosts at the lovely homestay we were put up at. The setting for the meal would have pleased the best of butlers in terms of its aesthetics. There were spoons and forks and knives of various sizes. Now, I`m not a boor,but show me one person, who can manage to use all that cutlery, when he`s truly, truly hungry and I`ll eat my spoon. All those people who are shown on TV delicately nibbling at the delectable spread laid out in front of them, with their forks and chopsticks, would have had a large tandoori chicken, behind-the-scenes. If the hostess expected us to use these, in the face of the overwhelmingly tempting aroma wafting all around our noses, she was sorely disappointed.

Only 1 in 20 attempts that a tiger makes at hunting a prey ends in success. So, when you see a tiger eat the small fawn that it has killed, suppress that urge to berate the tiger, and try to understand the value of that meal. Now, put 4 hungry guys in place of tigers, and replace the fawn with a more palatable chicken curry, and you get the picture. We tore into that chicken with a ferocity that would have made any self-respecting tiger proud, and probably the smallest member of the family, decided to try his luck with his two-legged relatives.

There sat this creature, with beady looking eyes, unwaveringly staring at me, as I gnawed on the chicken leg, mewing piteously and urging me to part with a small part of my meal. I was too busy, however to understand the dynamics of cat-behaviour and blissfully closed my eyes to the threat at hand. The realization that something was amiss, came to me, when a small part of my brain, warned me that the stage for pleading was long past, indicated by the lack of mewing. I looked down, just in time to see the crouching cat, take a giant leap, straight at me, and more specifically at my paw..err..my hand, which at that moment was about to relegate the chicken leg to oblivion. The pandemonium that followed, was unmatched in the history of that pristine land called Coorg, and ensured that the migratory pattern of a few species of birds, startled by the commotion, was altered forever. Thanks to my incredible reflexes however, that usually come about when I see a threat to my food resources, I managed to evade the feral, feline fury and saved both the chicken and the human from the clutches of the devil`s own, which was promptly whisked away by the devils.

Though, the first instinct of that famous 'Fight, or Flight' mechanism asserted itself right there, in that land of the brave Kodavas, I find that, back here, in 'Namma Bengalooru', the second instinct seems to have crept in with a vengeance. The sight of a cat, crouching is enough to send me scurrying for cover, which is exactly what I am going to do now, as I see one right behind my chair. Meaow...sorry, Ciao.