Catalyzed Against Dylan

I've written before about how my feline roommate Kato will not allow me to listen to music by Bob Dylan. Kato prefers jazz from the 1950's (perhaps from one of his previous nine lives as a "hep cat"), although he did express interest once in a long Grateful Dead track - but I think it was mainly the Mickey Hart drum solo he was grokking.

When I play Bob Dylan, Kato starts caterwauling until I turn it off and put on some John Coltrane, Miles Davis, or Sonny Rollins. So I am forced to listen to my Bob Dylan CD's in my car or at my office. This is one of the sacrifices I make to have a roommate who doesn't even pay his fair share of the rent. The leasing office does not accept dead chipmunks as payment.

I just found out yesterday that one of my closest friends has also started to experience this problem: His cat Snuggles will not allow him to listen to Dylan's Blood on the Tracks CD. Like Kato, Snuggles begins caterwauling until my friend turns off the offending CD. (Kato, by the way, being a Russian Blue of the highest cat nobility, would never tolerate a name like "Snuggles.")

I'm wondering if there is something going on in the morphic field of cats, "a disturbance in the Force" of felines. Maybe this anti-Dylan behavior is limited to cats in Cobb County, Georgia. Or maybe the cats have never forgiven Dylan for going electric in 1965.

If you are blessed to have a cat who allows you to serve him or her, please try this experiment: Play some Bob Dylan and see how the cat reacts. Report back to me. There may be an article in this for a scholarly journal. But it will have to wait; I have to go now. Kato needs some tuna.

"In the name of St. Julian of Norwich, you must obey me."

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