Sibling Revelry

Tiger with his sister Pepper.

A dramatic tale in sepia.

~  *  ~

It is confirmed.

All forms of human entertainment – drama, theatre, cinema can trace their origin to cats.

Cats have played a phenomenal role in helping develop the acting skills of human beings.

You can see where actors & actresses got their perfect expressions from.

The art of emoting.

Be it that special look in the eyes or that just-so-right tilt of the head.

Those swooning scenes where the actor passes out & people rush to get the smelling salts, were learnt from these.

Pepper demonstrating a swoon.

How to show affection & yet maintain a cool distance by looking the other way.

Ever wondered why Andrew Lloyd Webber’s musical was called Cats?

~  *  ~

From Gus: The Theatre Cat by TS Eliot –

“I have played,” so he says, “every possible part,
And I used to know seventy speeches by heart.
I’d extemporize back-chat, I knew how to gag,
And I knew how to let the cat out of the bag.
I knew how to act with my back and my tail;
With an hour of rehearsal, I never could fail.
I’d a voice that would soften the hardest of hearts,
Whether I took the lead, or in character parts…”

~  *  ~

Companionable

J. Alfred Prufrock

The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock by T. S. Eliot must be ‘attempted’ to be read at least once in one’s lifetime. If you can figure it out, that’s just as well too. The part I enjoyed most is the terrific imagery of the feline of the species, the regular cat, in the extract below –

 
     The yellow fog that rubs its back upon the window-panes,         
The yellow smoke that rubs its muzzle on the window-panes 
Licked its tongue into the corners of the evening, 
Lingered upon the pools that stand in drains, 
Let fall upon its back the soot that falls from chimneys, 
Slipped by the terrace, made a sudden leap,        
And seeing that it was a soft October night, 
Curled once about the house, and fell asleep. 

 
And indeed there will be time 
For the yellow smoke that slides along the street, 
Rubbing its back upon the window panes;         
There will be time, there will be time 
To prepare a face to meet the faces that you meet; 
There will be time to murder and create, 
And time for all the works and days of hands 
That lift and drop a question on your plate;         
Time for you and time for me, 
And time yet for a hundred indecisions, 
And for a hundred visions and revisions, 
Before the taking of a toast and tea.  

 
In the room the women come and go         
Talking of Michelangelo.  

 
And indeed there will be time 
To wonder, “Do I dare?” and, “Do I dare?” 
Time to turn back and descend the stair, 
With a bald spot in the middle of my hair—         
(They will say: “How his hair is growing thin!”) 
My morning coat, my collar mounting firmly to the chin, 
My necktie rich and modest, but asserted by a simple pin— 
(They will say: “But how his arms and legs are thin!”) 
Do I dare         
Disturb the universe? 
In a minute there is time 
For decisions and revisions which a minute will reverse.