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Al-Ahram Weekly 16 - 22 March 2000 Issue No. 473 
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Published in Cairo by AL-AHRAM established in 1875 |
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Al-Ahram Weekly 16 - 22 March 2000 Issue No. 473
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| Published in Cairo by AL-AHRAM established in 1875 |
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Egypt Region International Economy Opinion Culture Special Focus Travel Living Sports Profile People Time Out Chronicles A touch of class
By Fayza Hassan
I once had a friend who was a true snob. No one and nothing ever seemed to measure up to her impossibly high standards. Consequently, her chosen friends literally turned cartwheels to please her. This is usually what happens with people who make more demands on you than they are entitled to. She was neither prettier nor more knowledgeable than the rest of us, but her entire demeanour was a clear statement of her preeminence. She walked with her head held high and few managed to keep their composure under her critical gaze. When in her company, we felt in the presence of royalty, so distinct was her disdain for our shortcomings. She considered them personal slights to her superior nature and complained sourly about having to constantly put up with such lack of consideration. Couldn't we make an effort and rise above our deficiencies in order to please her just a little? Hard as it may have been, we all struggled to win her approval. It came as no particular surprise, however, to be told by someone who knew her well that she had been born to poverty. Only those foreign to affluence can emulate the presumed attitudes and idiosyncrasies of the rich and famous with such consummate perfection.
These days, I am often reminded of that friend when I observe the behaviour of our cat Nagat. A black stray of the commonest variety, she carries on as no animal boasting the most impeccable of pedigrees would ever dare to. Rather diminutive in stature, she constantly struts around like a young girl showing off her first pair of high heels. Her green eyes -- her best feature -- stare in contempt at humans and other felines alike. As a matter of fact, she prefers to keep herself to herself, and will only bother to make contact if and when given undivided attention. She spends hours lounging on our newest PC to mark her disregard for high-tech equipment and its high price, fastidiously grooming herself, as if her bedraggled fur were a flowing mane worthy of the greatest care . Her sparsely furnished tail, in particular, is the object of never-ending ministrations. I once owned a pure Persian Chinchilla of striking beauty who never wasted more than three seconds on the business of keeping himself tidy; his indifference was such that I had to clean him myself after every meal. Nagat, on the other hand, is not one to take her looks lightly. She works hard at making the best of the little she has. As a result, although she may not be good-looking in the classical sense, she is definitely striking. Who cares if her hair irremediably clogs up the PC?
She has examined us thoroughly by now, she seems to be telling us, and found us wanting. There is no doubt in my mind that she believes she deserves better. Forced to interact with the rabble, she knows that she is bound to be disappointed. She nevertheless tries to accommodate herself with the little we have to offer. Every morning and evening, she walks regally into the kitchen for her meals. She casts a suspicious glance at her plate and, if she does not find the thick chunks of chicken breast to which she is partial, she huffily saunters away. She never accepts to stoop to a lower level (chicken thighs, for instance, or -- perish the thought! -- leftovers), except perhaps if dinner is particularly late and she is terminally starving. Only then might she deign daintily to lick a sardine of a particular brand that she sometimes patronises condescendingly; having done so, however, she checks herself, shakes her front paws in disgust at the offering's lack of distinction and walks haughtily away.
We picked Nagat up off the Corniche and out of harm's way when she was a tiny lost kitten, but she had already honed her survival skills to perfection. As soon as she realised that she had been adopted and could count on a comfortable home and plenty of food, she made it clear that she was taking no nonsense from us. She may have landed with a bunch of fools, her eyes told us, but she would see to their training. Whenever she is displeased by the actions of another of our cats straying onto her territory by mistake, or when she is revolted by the sight of her somewhat less than pristine kitty litter, she hollers her indignation so loudly that she propels us into immediate action. Once she has us hopping to it, she sits back and observes us with the bitter smile of a deposed queen who has to fight to be given her due respect. "How could I have fallen so low?" she seems to be saying to herself, while lunging at us with outstretched sharp claws every now and then, to motivate us further.
As was the case with my friend, I will always treat Nagat in the way to which she has wished to become accustomed. Her whole attitude proclaims that this is the least one can do for someone who has had to work hard at earning her letters of nobility.
