A Matter of Stealth

The Cat Who Lives in the Garage eases through the latticework and with quick, light steps that barely disturb the fallen leaves, makes her way up the driveway. She gives me a look that most certainly could be a reprimand - I'm late with her supper and I suspect that she wants me to know it. Like most people I know, guilt is second nature to me and I hear myself apologize before I remember that she is a trespasser and not an invited guest. She stealthily slips through the double doors and vanishes before the dogs even notice her presence.

There's always enough guilt to go round, I've learned. When it doesn't occur naturally, we're more than capable of manufacturing or ordering it to go and a stray cat or two speeds up the process. Coming home quite late one night, I saw what at first I thought was a rat on the curb of a downtown street - it turned out to be a young kitten, drinking from the gutter. I tried to keep driving, I always do, but guilt pulled me back and I spent the better part of an hour trying to coax him to me. He meowed and followed me but drew back if I got too close and my instincts told me it was a useless effort. A dark street in a bad section of the city is no place to be alone at 3am and I finally gave up and drove away, feeling dispirited and sad, as if I'd abandoned him. I drove back the very next day and for several days after that but there was no sign of him - reminding myself that I wasn't responsible and that I'd tried didn't absolve me in the least - the guilt felt natural and I carried it with me.

Guilt, not unlike a cat, is a creature of stealth and surprise attacks. It creeps up on its target silently, looking for a way in, preying on failure and inner doubt. Logic is pitifully ineffective against it as it thrives on the chaos of emotion rather than the order of reason - knowing that you have nothing to feel guilty about doesn't do much good when you're already feeling guilty. I once read that you can say "no" without having to provide an explanation - but I've never learned how. I was taught that anger is an emotion that always performs solo, that you can't be angry at someone you love nor they at you. It's not true, not even close to true, but it's a good way to mold a mind and grow a sense of guilt and fault that rarely fails.

Here's what guilt gets you - The Cat Who Lives in the Garage has spread the word and after I set out a dish of fresh food and a new bowl of water and spend twenty chilly minutes coaxing her to me, she finally consents to get near enough to cautiously eat. When she's done, she cleans her paws and whiskers and then wanders off to do whatever stray cats do when they're not playing the system. In her place, a long haired black cat with huge yellow eyes and a big, bulked up tortoiseshell arrive and make themselves at home. They don't bother with stealth or discretion - guilt has paved their way.

Oh, dear.