Belly rub

My friend has this little cat. It was little, she now shows me and Chip that the cat just got bigger and longer, much longer, than she used to be.

Or is it a “he”? I remember somewhere along our kilometer long chat texts there was a mentioning of its puberty condition and that the vet failed to find ‘it’. So I guess it’s a he. Sorry.

Rewrite: he is much longer than he used to be.

Ever since this cat came to her life, our chat texts have been blessed with many a cat photos, in all kind of positions. Curved ball, Fake Cleopatra sexy pose, and then there is the Ridiculous expression pose. That plus many videos of pandas that I obsessively force my friends to suffer from, mean that our chat texts are ridiculously inappropriate for adults with real problems. We are basically peter pans, deep deep within, running from a world of problems nobody want to care about.

I don’t know what about this cat, but he refused to let my friend rub his fluffy belly. A cat whisperer (as I am), knows that the belly rub is the utmost level of trust an animal could ever grant us human with, especially cats with their sensitivity. I used to have few cats in my life, so belly rub was a known therapy to cure tantrum and occasional sadness. Belly rub therapy, and that is it, you are happy and bounce back on your feet again.

Same thing with baby panda, not that I actually have any but since I have to reinforce this image of belly rub therapy, they are zillion more adorable when belly exposed, ready to be rubbed.

Now, I’m going to psychoanalyze the freak out of this belly rub therapy so that once it’s over, you would not think about it in the same  light, ever again. I would destroy this image of happy human-animal relationship that so many hold dear to hearts, and replace it with a much darker version of reality. You have been warned.

Ok, what is the first thing about belly rubbing that is so therapeutic? The feeling of soft furs in your hand? The warmth underneath your pet tender spot? The slow change from trying to shield its body from the touch to opening up to you, and let you gently rub the belly?

No, it’s all of that but not enough. There is something else. We humans know it well. We do this with babies. Aw, little human babies with round belly with milk in it stomach. The softness and warmth and cuteness is just overwhelming to a mother’s senses, and also any average human. Deep down, we are conditioned to protect this little angle from all harms. Rubbing its belly is one of the benefit that we get from the baby. But also, we are reinforcing the hierarchy of order: we adults, grown and strong, probably scarred and partially broken, trying to play with this little beautiful perfectly well-rounded child and extract some happiness from it, belly rubbing just one of many touches we do to get that feeling of wholeness (again). I don’t mean it in any weird way, but really your brain knows this, and it loves it. Your heart rate is neutralized, you feel a sense of calmness, a mixture of being so huge and protective over this vulnerable and fresh being. Other than belly rubbing, there is couching, back rubbing, head massaging, talking to the baby. All of these interactions are essential to both the caregiver and the baby itself. There was this sad real life accidental experiment in WWII, where there were just too many babies (hundreds) under the care of a dozen of nurses in this hospital. Basically the nurses were just too overwhelmed with feeding and replacing pampers and washing the clothes of these babies 24 hours a day, they forgot to ‘touch’ them. Basically any sense of touch was deprived from these babies first few weeks of existence. In the end, only 20-ish survived, while all other babies died.

It’s a real thing, I’m not making this up.

Why? The doctors and scientists later learned that the sense of being touched is critical for normal development of babies. In a poetic way, it needs to feel ‘loved’, to be living. Does this sound awkwardly in sync with the Harry Potter story?

So yeah, when you belly rub your pet, it’s the same thing. You are trying to show love, but also, subconsciously trying to extract a sense of happiness out of it, the feeling that there is a vulnerable being with hear beats depend on you, and trust you.

Yet, despite her effort, the little long male cat just continues to reject being belly touched.

So I have this theory, either this cat is freakishly independent and trying to play “grown-ups”, or it’s having stomach problem that is weirdly activated under belly touches. Be, you have a cat with issues.

So, as I said, much darker version of reality, no? You don’t feel it all? Oh come on all this talking about love and belly had your brains stopped hadn’t it? I know, if I say, “let me psychoanalyze the freak out of this to show you how adorable and important this belly rubbing really is”, would you even care?

I’m just trying to prove 2 points:

  1. Belly rubbing is important, Be’s cat, and you are missing out in life.
  2. You are easily lured into reading dark stuff, the same way media is hooking your brain up with all the sensational shitty stuff happening out there. Admit it.
  3. If you stopped reading at the paragraph that says dark version of reality, congratulations, you are a pure-hearted rarity that happens once in a lifetime.
  4. I’m very good at math.

Excuse the language. And happy birthday to Be!

I have a confession: hôm trước mình vừa ăn món bê xào xả ớt  Bê ạ. Với cả mình đã định ngồi tô mèo vẽ cún gì đấy nhưn g xong rồi lại thấy, uầy, trời mưa, xong rồi mình nghĩ thôi mình vẽ xấu lắm, làm thế nhỡ con jerk mèo của bạn nó nghĩ mình vẽ nó rồi lần sau nó lại không chơi với mình như lần trước.

Và đây là ảnh con jerk mèo tên là Béo tạo dáng ngây thơ bên cây cổ thụ. Hẳn nó đang nghĩ, “hừm, tặng cô ấy con gì nhỉ, con gián?”, “hừm, mai làm gì cho cô ấy nhỉ? à cào vào mặt”




Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s