▸ Column · Modern noir Gotham — a lonely-hearts column passed to the Princess of Plunder, with the Dark Knight reading over her shoulder
CATWOMAN replies.
The letter
My cat — Brigadier Fluffington, eleven years old, formerly the most reasonable creature in my Gotham walk-up — has declared war on my boyfriend. Marco moved into the picture six weeks ago, and since then the Brigadier has confiscated exactly one shoe from every pair Marco owns (never the pair, just the one), delivered a 4 a.m. yowl directly into Marco's ear with the timing of a bank alarm, and last week shoved a full mug of coffee off the counter while holding unbroken eye contact with the man the entire descent. Marco keeps saying "he'll come around." Last night the cat dragged Marco's pillow to the litter box and sat on it like a throne. Is there any path to a truce here, or do I start asking whether a cat can be served a restraining order?
Catwoman replies
Sugar, you wrote to the wrong woman for sympathy. I've been the cat in this story more times than I can count, and nobody pulls the coffee-mug stunt — eye contact and all — without a reason.
Eleven years that animal had the run of the place. Then a man moves in and starts collecting your attention like it's a deposit he intends to keep. The Brigadier isn't malfunctioning. He's casing Marco. The single shoe, the 4 a.m. reveille, the pillow on the throne — that's a creature filing an objection in the only language he's got.
And don't laugh it off. I've watched my own cats clock a liar across a crowded gala faster than any of Gotham's so-called detectives. They read the power in a room the way I do, before they read the faces. Cats don't come when called — that's the whole point of cats.
So here's the larcenous part: stop asking how to fix the cat. Ask why an eleven-year resident filed his complaint the second the locks changed. Maybe Marco does come around. But the pillow in the litter box? That's a review, handsome. Read it before you sign a longer lease.
— Catwoman
Batman weighs in
Selina romanticizes the animal because she is the animal. Don't.
The cat is not a detective. It is territory reacting to a changed perimeter. Eleven years of routine, broken in six. That yowling is fear, not a verdict.
Marco is not on trial. Neither is the cat. The variable you control is structure. Controlled introductions. Separate feeding zones. A door that closes. Predictability calms a frightened creature faster than any theory about his "objection."
Impose order before you read it as judgment.
And Selina — your cats clock liars because you trained them to. Not everyone in the room is being cased.
— Batman
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