The cat from whom we rent our house is making the news these days, because she is one of those voters who the political commentators in print and on television now are saying could make the difference in who wins the presidency.
She is one of the undecideds. The political talking heads don’t understand her — or rather, they don’t understand how anyone possibly could be undecided at this point. But she is. She doesn’t know whether she will vote Democat or Republicat.
I can hardly blame her. Rather than debating the important issues of the day, the candidates have developed what one-time Harper’s Magazine editor Lewis Lapham calls “the gift for saying nothing.”
The candidates are, he writes in the September issue of Lapham’s Quarterly, “presented as game-show contestants, or posed as noble knights-at-arms setting forth on vision quests, enduring the trials by klieg light …”
When the cat was young, she was an unrepentant liberal, and usually voted Democat. She roamed the neighborhood at will, climbed trees and stole kibble from the dishes of cats whose humans had put out more than their pets needed. She also got into fights. There were times when she came home looking somewhat worse for wear, and had to be taken to the veterinarian, who was able to make a couple of hefty car payments by the time the cat came home and I had paid the bill.
Nowadays, though, she is more of a Republicat. She sticks around her own yard or the neighbor’s yard, pretty well stays out of trouble and turns up her nose when young cats show up to make trouble or pick a fight. She even ignores the dog, much to the dog’s dismay. At the cat age of 49 (7 in people years) she looks down her nose at politicians’ statements. “They’re all lion,” she huffs.