WHY I HATE CATS

Someone reprimanded me on a drawing I did last week. She said it was disturbing and she felt that it should never be published on account of it being offensive (to whom? Those rude & mindless PETA hypocrites? One of their members ate a dog in one demonstration).

Check out my drawing above. Do you think it's disturbing too?


This drawing of the hanged cat is actually a metaphor to my poem 'MASK ME'. Here is an excerpt from that poem:

"This small death... 'la petit mort'-
Another trick by Master Reality,
But nothing can compare to the tragedy,
of putting on Hope's makeup,
Which distorts Sorrow's beauty.

A demise of faith,
Remembrance of it I shall lay plain,
Unto the world's face to see,
A mask of deceit, yet so pretty."

The hanged cat is a symbol to individuals whose pain and depression are overlooked by society, and who slowly die in the hands of their own society's system, as represented by the noose tied from the tree branch. The grieving tree represents the sympathy of people who wished they could help these individuals, while the crows perching on the tree's branch symbolize the careless and free who merely observe the death of these individuals and think nothing of it later.

I have used this drawing many times to figure out the depth of one's mind before I decide to strike an intelligent conversation with them. I find that 2 out of 10 people are able to analyze the meaning to my drawing, and these are people that I admire for their critical thinking while the other eight are stupid enough to earn my infamous frown and silence. It's no surprise then that my female counterpart of Simon Cowell is working as a part-time model.

"Why do you hate cats?" she asked. Duh, just because I draw hanging cats that doesn't automatically mean I'm a cat-hater.

But seriously, I hate cats. My hatred towards cats have something to do with my hatred to Dad's mother.

When I was young, my Dad's mother used to drop by at our house and visit Dad. She never cared to look for me or acknowledge my presence in the house. I was just a shadow to her. If I ever get near her, she would hit me or curse at me with words I didn't quite understand at that time.

I remember she looked like this Cruella De Vil character with her designer glasses, wool cap, heavy gold bangles, and an evil looking black cat that did nothing but stretching and yawning in her arms.

One day, when my parents weren't at home Dad's mother took me to the bathroom and pushed me into the filled bath tub. I remember looking up from the water reaching for air, and seeing her stroking her cat while she watched me drown. I thought that was the end of me.

When I woke up, I found myself in the children's ward with Mama beside me. Mama had sensed something wrong when she got home early from teaching, and managed to rescue me from drowning to death. Mama stayed beside me for days until I got out of the ward.

After that, I did not see Dad's mother coming to our house anymore. But she left her pet cat at our house. I caught the cat and stuffed it inside an empty pail. I plugged another pail on top of the one which contained the cat, and left it there all night. The next morning, Dad was surprised to find his mother's cat sandwiched and dead between the pails.

I committed a murder at the age of four. And the victim was a cat.

STRICKEN - DISTURBED
is playing on my mind today

Copyright © 2007 Amel Hanan - All Rights Reserved