I like Macy D.'s phrase, the "language of cats." I live with lagomorphs rather than felines, but I experience the same thing. They definitely have their own very unique dialect.

It's funny, though, how easily it is for us to fall into a very different kind of dialect when talking about our pets. I'm speaking about the language of property rights: that notion as old as domestication that animals are akin to things and can, though they are living independent creatures, be possessed by us humans. That approach certainly has it's uses, and I'm not suggesting we dispense with it entirely. But one of the downsides of thinking about our pets in this way is that it becomes very easy to confuse our wants and needs with theirs. In fact, it practically gives us permission to ignore their own unique ways of negotiating the world and project our own priorities onto them.

I suspect the LW's problem might better be approached by separating out the part that is about the LW's feelings (wanting to be respected by her roommate, worrying that the roommate's indifference to her wishes is a sign that she sees the LW as mentally incompetent) and the part that is about the welfare of the cats (who are probably telling both humans what they think of this whole bouncing routine one way or another, but so far aren't really being heard).

I know it sounds a little silly, in a flower child sort of way, but I try to remind myself not to think of the animals whose lives I share as my possessions but instead as creatures for whom I have accepted a great deal of responsibility and with whom I have a certain kind of relationship. It's something very different from any relationship one would have with a human, of course, but it's a relationship nonetheless because they are independent of me and their priorities do not necessarily coincide with mine. Like it or not, and despite the clear and extreme power imbalance between us, our lives together are a series of negotiations.

It's hard to keep that perspective, since things are pretty much set up in such a way as to reinforce their status as objects to be possessed. But we've such a sad legacy of treating all kinds of relationships as issues of property rights (pets, children, wives not so long ago, whole races of people), there's something liberating about trying to approach it in a different light. And I've found that I make a very different set of choices when I can get my head out of the "property" dynamic and try to see the world through their eyes. The LW, as a clearly loving and well-intentioned cat mom, could benefit from dealing with her own feelings about her roommate separately and using her knowledge of that "language of cats" to see if there is even any need to intervene.

I meant Matty D. Sorry!

It is so hard to resolve in my mind that I can live in a country where someone would shout about "AMERICA" and "freedom of speech" to justify telling a mother to just get over her child's death; and yet also live in a country where a 15-year-old has the wisdom to say that "life as a whole might not be fair, but other people can make it more tolerable."

These internets: what a direct line to the ugliest depths and most exquisite hights of our collective id.

And loving it. Don't think this season is worse than last. I think some characters (especially the older kids, and also some of the people on the compound) are getting way more interesting development this season, too. And we get to see a lot more of Bill's darker side. Wish the Weber Gaming plot had gone away instead of the lady-in-the-diner plot, though. And the legal entanglements over Albi's poisoning seemed to get resolved a bit abruptly.

Also, to the fella who said of his love of JFC: "I LIKE a show that challenges me, that forces me to think": I think that's wonderful. I just want to point out that there are many of us out here who also like shows that challenge us and force us to think but don't like the way that particular show does the job (or feel that it fails at this job entirely).

When I get the sense that what we are being "forced to think" about is essentially meaningless, I tend to decide to save my synaptic efforts for other intellectual challenges. JFC for me is like one extremely extended koan; and there are many better and blessedly short ones upon which to expend my mental energies. If I wanted a koan, I'd go study Zen.

I prefer the way shows like The Wire force me both to think and to question myself, my lifestyle, my sense of right and wrong, and I like the way that leads me to act differently in life. After the season so far, I'm not anticipating much in JFC to challenge me on that deeper level.

That you get more out of JFC than others is wonderful, but please don't suffer under the delusion that people who don't enjoy the show are all just not up for the challenge. I'm opting out of the challenge because I have no faith in the reward and find that there are too many things worth thinking about to spend my time having Miltch lead me through an exercise that seems like nothing more than thinking for thinking's sake.