The domestic cat is a contradiction. No other animal has developed such an intimate relationship with man, and, at the same time, has demanded and exercised such independence of movement and action. The dog may be man's best friend, but is rarely allowed to roam from garden to garden or street to street. The obedient dog is taken for a walk. The stubborn cat goes for a walk unaccompanied. The cat leads a double life. At home it is a grown kitten who stares imperturbably at his masters. But when he goes partying he is an adult, he is his own boss and even a wild creature, free-living, clever and self-sufficient then his human protectors are completely forgotten. This change from pet to wild animal and then domestic again, is fascinating to watch. Any cat owner who has accidentally followed the animal out of the house, and finds it deeply engulfed in some feline series of sex and violence, will know what I am talking about. When, at a given moment, the animal, completely embroiled in an intense drama of courtship and lovemaking, locates, out of the corner of the eye, to its human owner who is seeing everything, there is a moment of embarrassment, of hesitation, and the animal runs across the street, rubs against the leg of its master and turns once more in the home kitty.
