The Iraqi version of Jack the Ripper, Al-Zarqawi, got his. So, that was good. But our buoyant mood was ruined by the Rhode Island legislature. Though not near the malingnancy of Al-Zarqawi, they planted a small, silly IED in the pathway of freedom. Just a pinprick — insignificant — still, as ominous as smoke curling out of the barn door. The political philosophers who ponder the fate of the miniature state of Rhode Island made a new law: you must neuter your cat. The state, having established a beachhead on my private life is driving inland. Having invaded my backyard (Endangered Species Act) my pantry (warning labels) my home (have you seen your tax bill?) my dining room table (better not play cards for money) my car (those abominable seat belts). . . that’s not enough? Now cats. My black and white fuzz ball of a cat, Kato, has come to their attention.
They have the chutzpah to interfere with her sexual behavior. And they won’t even let her vote. Our forefathers rebelled about taxation without representation! How about taxation without procreation.
I know from exhaustive observation of her backyard behavior that she’s opposed to neutering. Listen it’s a stretch to believe that even I, her owner, friend, ad confidante, have this authority. Much less some bulldog-owning clerk down at city hall. Can you believe it? Politically, it’s not a giant leap in bureaucratic logic from Kato to Betty and Marilyn — my two post-pubertal daughters. Think China.
