Daily Log. 0900hrs. 22, Rue de Bragance. 23.12.05. Morning broke quietly and coldly. Cat still in heat. Repetitive miaowing now entering the depths of the brain. Living on the verge of a nervous breakdown. Family contingent arriving at 1700 hrs.
The Italians have a word - "estro". It could mean a stroke of genius. Flavio tells me that it finds its roots in madness. As for Maltese, "l-estru" describes a fit or attack of passing madness. I have recently discovered the radix malorum. Estrus is the latin and scientific term for a mammalian cycle. All mammals barring humans and apes (who have a menstrual cycle instead) go through these cycles.
That means also Xitan. Yes, my dearest is suddenly a big girl. And believe you me... it is no cause for celebration. For two days I have withstood the symphony of noises alternating subtle demi-purrs with blood curling howls worthy of the mythical banshees. The meaning of the term "instinctive" has hit home like a hammer. It is instinctive for cats to miaow and howl. It is instinctive and therefore no amount of threats with rolled up newspapers will do. She just has to miaow.
Often. Regularly, and with a passion that only nature can grant.
Xitan visited the vet yesterday. She has now got all official injections and a Belgian passport (don't ask). This estrus thing is madness itself. I wonder if any of you knows the feeling of running up to a cat with a rolled up newspaper in hand and instead of finding a submissive cat fearing discipline one finds a sexually obsessed pussy squirming on the floor in a manner known only to the geishas of the Far East and the women from the Suleyman's Inner Harem.
If anyone knows of any solution that does not involve cats in sacks, large doses of rat poison or simulating sex in order to satisfy the feline's intimate instinctive desires, please, please do tell this poor man living on the verge of a nervous oestral attack.
Otherwise enjoy your Christmas preparations.
Picture above: Estrus : A giant fingerpainting by Max Singer