The Teachings of a Cat

My cat Needles is my hero. I am an anarchist. I do not like being told what to do. Needles is my role model because he is an asshole. Not that he is an innate, unlikeable pain in my ass. But he believes in choice. He embodies the saying There’s more than one way to skin a cat. That just seems wrong writing that in the same paragraph describing my feline companion as my hero.

When I arrive home from working in the corporate slave pits where everything is uniform and regimented, I am greeted by Needles as I trudge down the stairs. He pokes his head through the railing for me to scratch the sides of his face. This never takes long. Needles knows what he wants and what he likes. He just needs reassurance I am home.

When he has received enough attention, he nips the side of my hand with his needle-sharp teeth. He is not being a prick. He is not intending to harm me. He is letting me know he has received enough attention, and I am now free to leave him alone so he may survey the rest of his kingdom. Needles is not a lap cat. Independence is his motto.

He represents the ideals I espouse as an anarchist. Independence of thought and freedom of choice. The word anarchist has developed some rather rude and inaccurate connotative associations due to public relations. For the purpose of this writing, I journeyed through the ether to The Free Dictionary [dot] com to learn how they define the concept. Dictionaries are the accepted authorities on word definitions after all, right?

The very first definition says, “Absence of any form of political authority.” Hear, hear. I wholeheartedly agree. This visibly changes in the next group of definitions where it leads off, “General lawlessness and disorder, especially when thought to result from an absence or failure of government.” If that’s not a loaded statement, I don’t understand the subtlety of rhetoric. Most people do not.

The idea that anarchy is represented by hooded hoodlums hiding their identities and throwing refuse bins through the plate glass windows of local stores not only insults my intelligence, but it should also fail the smell test of the common person. Anarchy does not advocate chaos. It does not promote destructive behavior that can only result in one thing—the creation of the over-intrusive, abuse-loving power of a tyrannical body. True anarchists will not engage in behavior where the consequence is the establishment of the police state they champion against.

The word anarchy can be broken down to its ancient Greek origins. It stems from the abstract noun anarkhos. An- means “without.” Arkhos means “leader.” Simply put, the etymological meaning of the word is literally without a leader. It does not mean chaos. It does not mean one tyranny is better than another. It embodies the ideals of the freedom to choose, and more importantly, not to choose.

Why is it “impossible to be sure of anything but death and taxes,” according to Christopher Bullock in The Cobbler of Preston? The natural state of humanity is leaderless. Watch toddlers who don’t wish to go to bed. They are not being obstinate. They know what they want, and they are attempting to vocalize it. But over a lifetime, authority figures grind that essential element out of our being. They create inside us the erroneous belief that nothing can be accomplished without the express guidance of an overarching mandate.

When we accept that way of thinking, we embrace a cookie cutter mentality that says, “I am incapable of choosing for myself.” Looking at it from another point of view, I can understand the anxiety caused by having too much freedom of choice. Have you ever sat down on the couch to watch a show or a movie and are overwhelmed by the sheer volume of choices offered by all the different channels? Many times, I just toss the remote onto the cushions and retreat to my library to read or write.

Still, the choice is mine. Needles teaches me this. His actions inform me that I am not his boss, and when he is done granting me the pleasure of his greeting, I am free to go about my business be it whatever I choose. I just have to leave him out of it. Typically, he retreats to the living room and lounges on the back of the easy chair where he can survey his world. It is not my world. But neither is mine his.