Satire: Cat Island College, premier college for cats
My cat, Princess Sarah, lives up to her name. She spends her days lounging around my house on various pieces of furniture. There is her plus-sized cat bed, her American Girl doll bunkbed, various couches … and if she wants to sleep on any surface taller than a foot, she calmly waits for someone to lift her up to her desired destination. Once she sits somewhere, she stays put, except when she rolls around on the living room floor, exposing her stomach in an odd gymnastics routine. Personal hygiene is too much for Princess Sarah, and she finds no reason to clean herself after she goes to the bathroom. I have heard that Louis XIV hardly ever bathed, so perhaps she is following some kind of royal regimen. Her only other activity apart from doing nothing is begging for food and eating it. “Catch your own dinner!” I yell at Princess Sarah when she starts screaming for food halfway through the day. Once she has her food, the effort of standing and eating is too exhausting, and so she must lay down.
If you ask me, Princess Sarah is a passive aggressive piece of fluff, not a cat. And I want a cat. What can I do about this problem? Is there any solution? Where are all the real cats? The answer was apparent all along: the real cats are here at Hofstra University. I am speaking specifically of the cat habitat across from the David S. Mack Sports and Exhibition Complex, which I call “Cat Island.” This is a lucrative opportunity for Hofstra: if they turned Cat Island into a college, they could charge tuition for cats like Princess Sarah to learn how to function in the real world.
The cats of Cat Island are some of the most accomplished cats I’ve ever seen. I see them at night, digging for scraps in the garbage. They endure harsh winds and rain. And you know they could catch their own dinner if they wanted to. They are also tough and know how to use teamwork when it really suits them: once I saw a group of them gang up on a giant raccoon who was in their territory.
Not only would Cat Island College give Hofstra the satisfaction of knowing they are producing the next generation of self-sufficient cats, but it would provide many financial opportunities for Hofstra. For example, the cats of Cat Island College could have their own sporting events, which Hofstra could monetize. And the existence of a mini Pride within the Pride would be a selling point to prospective human students, especially those who would like their pampered cats to get a taste of the real world alongside them.
But it’s not about Hofstra and the money they could make. It’s about education. A good, solid educational foundation that turns lazy cats into smart, cunning creatures. And it wouldn’t be easy, either – especially not for Princess Sarah. I know the other cats would bully her. “Clean your behind! And stop rolling around in the middle of the street! You’ll get hit by a car!” they would say in a chorus of meows. Or maybe they would go the passive aggressive route and refuse to let her sit with them on the garbage can. But this would all be for the best, to teach her to toughen up. With Hofstra’s support, Princess Sarah could join the Pride.
One last thing: even if you are a whimsical eight-year-old when you get your cat, don’t give it a royal title.
