The Outskirts

I have four cats. And since I know what’s right, I also have four identical food bowls. At feeding time, I leave enough space between the bowls, so each cat can circle unhindered and freely decide in which direction it wants to hunker down and eat. I place equal amounts of Meow Mix in each of the four bowls. I’m very careful about that. And yet, we still have arguments over the food.

There are no loud or overtly aggressive displays, my cats are too cultured for alley cat behavior. Claws remain sheathed and rarely a sound is heard from a feline throat. But they all have an unlimited arsenal of indignant stares.

My cats are fairly democratic. Any one of them may rule on any given day and size is not always a factor. I don’t have any intact toms; everyone within the pride pads on equal footing. Dominance is only for the moment and they may sleep peacefully after dinner, only inches apart in the sunshine.

Human territorial behavior is less harmonious. While pleasantries are initially exchanged, once a group settles into its dynamics, the struggle for power begins. Human social order is rigid and permanent. It is based on the majority principle and enforces strict norms and standards. Like pack behavior, it celebrates the typical and predictable. And it has very little tolerance for the extraordinary.

The people who live with us, work with us, or go to school or church with us display various levels of social skill, determined by how well they understand and adhere to these standards. Those who move within them easily, find each other almost by instinct and form powerful cliques. The rest of us are expected to hover at the outskirts and beg for crumbs.

I know the outskirts. I’ve lived there most of my life. But I’m creative and resourceful enough, I have no need for leftovers. There is more room here, away from the cliques. Wide expanses beckon and tempt my sense of adventure. And the outskirts are populated by some of the most fascinating, impressive, and unusual individuals.

In a cat world, I would be floating in and out of power circles, but in a cat world it’s all about food. As a human, I understand the finer points of hierarchy, but I ignore them. I care little for scraps of tolerance handed out by the ‘in’ crowd. Although I understand cliques, I don’t need them and I have no desire to join. I enjoy living away from tightly knit circles. I feel comfortable here and I continue to meet the remarkable folks who have courageously carved their personal path into the fabric of society.

So, don’t pity us, clique dwellers. We from the outskirts live and dream in a rich world. We don’t require handouts. We don’t depend on your benevolence. And we really have more clout than you think!