Mr. Fleez on Classical Literature: The Picture of Dorian Gray.

Recently my self-proclaimed owner went through a rather lengthy illness, which prevented her from doing much other than petting me and reading. Since she knows how bored I get taking care of her, she was kind enough to read aloud, so I would have something to occupy my mind whilst administering purr therapy. Of the books she read, this one, The Picture of Dorian Gray, was at the top of interest. The plot was solid, the characters well-developed, and the lesson more pronounced than purrhaps most so-called scholars care to confess. As with other works of its time, it is loaded with flowery verbiage, something modern literature lacks to much the same detriment. Regardless of some rather long-winded descriptions, though, the story is rich in historical reflection, literary references, and insights on the baser nature of the human psyche.

The Picture of Dorian Gray elicited much scandal after its release. Many people thought the book promoted a lack of propriety in thought and deed, and were therefore keen on seeing it, or its author, Oscar Wilde, suppressed. It was even used in the prosecution of criminal charges brought against Wilde for the perpetration of certain homosexual offences. (I've read the claims made by the prosecution and have read Wilde's answers to their claims. I'm still not certain how they got away with entering it into evidence; but they did, and that's history.) A guilty verdict took two trials to obtain, and Wilde was sentenced to two years hard labor. Oddly enough, his conviction did more to benefit the homosexual community than it did to repress it, as in more recent times he's been portrayed as something of a martyr.

As the story goes, Mr. Basil Hallward, an artist enamored with the youth, beauty, and energy of his young sitter, Dorian Gray, makes the mistake of introducing the lad to Lord Harry Henry, a man of questionable character, to say the very least. Lord Henry fills Dorian's impressionable mind with a poisonous philosophy of selfishness and self-worship. When young Dorian wishes his soul away in exchange for eternal youth, things get ugly; when he realizes that he's got his wish, they get even uglier.

I won't go into detail; as I don't wish to spoil the story, but after a life of paranoia, self-anesthetization, and eventually the toll wrought by the ultimate in selfish acts, murder, Dorian Gray realizes that the life of the eternally youthful isn't all it's played up to be. The conclusion of the matter is an abrupt and interesting one, but because it's been mimicked in subsequent works, it's not as unpredictable as one might hope. Nevertheless, the lesson comes across quite clearly: be very careful what you wish for, as you may just get it.

Yours Purringly,
W.C. Humphries II (Mr. Fleez for short.)

The Importance of Being Accurate.

Most everyone agrees that cats are adept prowlers, able to utilize stealth and cunning as efficiently as, and often better than, the average weasel. Regardless of one's expertise in conducting such clandestine capers, however, it's only a matter of time before even the craftiest kitty is caught, red-pawed, doing something that, at least to the typical overbearing human, they probably ought not do. Sadly, I'm no exception, and earlier this week, after years of hiding my superior feline literacy, I was discovered surfing the net on my self-proclaimed owner's HP. I tried to pretend that I was simply batting the mouse aimlessly; but as clever as I am, an actor I am not, and such a lame little charade wouldn't have fooled a d*g, let alone a human.

I admit I've been lazy lately and have relaxed in my usual precautions. I knew it was unwise of me, but I began relying on the predictability of Azy's habits. Unfortunately, she's never been a very reliable sleeper, and just when I thought I had her figured out, she walked in, rather abruptly, as I was browsing the Cat Fancier's website. I must say, she took it better than I'd ever have expected, and rather than die straight of a heart attack, she decided to put my talents to use.

At first it didn't seem like a bad deal: Free, uninhibited use of the PC, her office, paper and supplies, in exchange for a few hours of mundane research. Regrettably, I can now see why she's so eager to delegate such research to me. The topics are tedious and vague, and sometimes flat out frustrating. I can search for hours and find little of relevance. I think she makes most of it up, but there's really no telling. Humans aren't complex thinkers, so I suppose it's possible that she truly wants the rubbish she has me seeking.

I'm sure most of you, being human, are unsympathetic. Still, if you want to know just how frustrating her little scavenger hunts can be, try meeting her so-called criteria yourself and see how miserably little you find. This was her request:

"Fleez, I'm working on a project that requires seeds no larger than sesames, that are naturally blue in colour; but they can't be too dark or they won't work, and I've no idea which plant produces them. Hop on it! Chop, chop!"

When I heard this, naturally I was confident. After all, I'm a cat with a taste for plants, and since she gave me her credit card number and authority to use it for the purchase of her heart's desire, I figured I could probably get away with tacking on a tender, young cat mint bush as my personal reward for a job well done. This is where it all goes pear-shaped: even in the catalogs that boast a strictly seed inventory, you rarely find pictures of the seeds themselves. Page after page of luscious plants! Ferny, flowery, viney, leafy, succulent, wispy, and fully bloomed, plants. NEVER SEEDS!

What's the point of calling it a seed catalog if you never show a picture of a blasted seed! If all you see is the finished product, shouldn't it be called a plant catalog? When was the last time you saw a catalog for paintbrushes that contained no pictures of the brushes themselves but plenty of the masterpieces they'd painted? I realize that most of you aren't looking at paintbrush catalogs, but it's a good question all the same. And while we're on the subject of accurate advertising, if the finished product is all that's to be depicted, why do these so-called seed catalogs never show pictures of big, barren plots of weedy dirt, complete with mounded deposits made fresh nightly by the twenty-seven neighborhood ferals who stand on line to use your garden as a giant toilet while howling mercilessly at the unaltered female in the house directly next door? Not everyone has green fingers, you know? It's just absurd to think that every single seed will form into a big delicious-looking plant like they show in these catalogs, and anyone who's ever seen a plot fail in a garden anywhere near a feral colony knows exactly what I'm on about!

All I can say is that the lack of communicative and organisational ability displayed by the human race is abysmal. I believe such deficits are directly relevant to the decline of modern civilization. If felines ruled the world, seed catalogs would have pictures of seeds, plant catalogs would have pictures of plants, and paintbrush catalogs would have pictures of paintbrushes. One would always know where to look for things, because they would always be properly labelled.

Yours Purringly,
W.C. Humphries II (Mr. Fleez for short.)

In loving Memory...

This week there has been a tragedy in the feline world, as one of the most sophisticated moggies of our generation has died. Her passing leaves behind a bittersweet legacy of beautiful memories and sadness, as she was highly valued and loved by all who knew her.

Sweet Lady Marjorie, Fancy of Pants, was a loving, gentle creature, with the big, bright eyes and the quiet disposition of a proper British Shorthair. She was also extremely humble, as after learning the plight of the common kitty, she renounced her hereditary pedigree and opted to be reckoned with the moggy masses, going so far as answering to the simple moniker, Fancy Pants.

During the first half of her too-short life, she suffered much. Her first humans didn't understand the complex needs of any feline, and because of their ignorance she underwent a complete and incompetently performed declawing, years of careless over feeding, countless hours without an attendant, and even outright mistreatment. By the age of six, she was grossly obese, suffering chronic, disabling constipation, resulting in a condition known as feline mega-colon, and feline spinal scoliosis (an effect of four-paw declawing).

When the couple keeping her divorced, she was taken to a new home where proper care was impossible due to the elderly human's limitations. She suffered several months more, until finally a decent, competent human offered to care for her in her debilitated state. From the moment of their meeting, Fancy Pants and Heather were utterly inseparable. Heather knew the devotion required in caring for such a needy kitty, and Fancy Pants, having the training of a proper lady, knew how to reward and dignify her human. They were a purrfect example of felidae/human relations.

Years of faithfully dosed medication, a well-monitored premium diet, and countless lovingly administered belly rubs helped Fancy Pants survive four years past the typical ten given to cats who suffer feline mega-colon, but this year she succumbed to pancreatic cancer, a disease that sometimes occurs in cats that have chronic digestive problems. Sadly, there is no cure for this dreaded disease, and after much suffering, she was put to rest with great love and empathy. As is fitting her beautifully majestic purrsonality, she will be cremated on a bed of roses.

There will be no filling the void left by our Sweet Lady Marjorie, Fancy of Pants. She was certainly the crème de la crème of sophistication and class. She will be missed for many years to come.

With purrs of sorrow,
W.C. Humphries II (Mr. Fleez for short.)