Normal Medieval Animal Monday

Good God, y'all. How can it be Monday? I'm far too tired for it to be a Monday. Surely the world has made some awful mistake and it's in fact Thursday or Friday by now.

Saturday at noon Gil and I had a marketing meeting at Fringe. We discussed logos, slogans, and all sorts of other catchy COME-SEE-OUR-PLAY things. Once all that stuff is settled I'll certainly post about it here. DIRECTLY after that was the first public reading of the play, and I do believe it went well. A Q&A afterwards left us with some helpful hints for improving and fine-tuning it. There was also positive feedback, lest my hopes and dreams be totally crushed. A celebratory pub meal left me completely useless all the next day with some short-lived but violent food poisoning. I fell asleep at 9PM Sunday night, and woke up at 5AM, exhausted. I should not be exhausted. Therefore, I submit to you that it is not actually Monday, but that I somehow woke up on a Thursday, and that I am therefore Thursday-tired instead of Monday-tired. Can we get to work on fixing this?

I will, however, operate under the assumption that this will not get corrected anytime soon, so here's your WMAM.

Today's WMAM is actually not so that-first-W. It was inspired by writing a bio for the BABEL list-serv this morning. I've never been terribly good at writing bios (i.e., selling myself, hence marketing meetings this weekend), but this is what I came up with:

Jennifer Lynn Jordan is a PhD candidate in Medieval European History at the CUNY Graduate Center. Her research interests include Prester John and medieval mythology, Levantine Jerusalem and Crusader history, Dante and medieval Florence, the Pre-Raphaelite Brotherhood and Victorian medievalism, and popular medievalism. She is the blogstress behind Per Omnia Saecula: Adventures in Medievalism. When not ruminating on Weird Medieval Animals, she can be seen snuggling with her Weird Modern Animal Simon "Kitten" Jordan, perfecting her stuffed mushroom recipe, or trying to locate Prester John.

(PS- My theme song is "This Time Tomorrow" by the Kinks.)

After writing this I started to think about Simon, because what is more productive and healing while than thinking about kittens when tired and ill? So today, we're going to talk about the medieval cat, which is not really That Weird.

THE CAT. (thanks Beastmaster!)



The above cats, besides being experts in synchronized catting, are Totally Normal. They are fairly laid back and seem completely uninterested in witch craft. Pal Izzy says:

The cat (musio) gets its name because it attacks the mouse (mus). Some say its name is cattus, from capture; others that it is cattat (sees) because it sees so sharply (acute) that it overcomes darkness.

And from Bartholomaeus Anglicus:

He is a full lecherous beast in youth, swift, pliant, and merry, and leapeth and reseth on everything that is to fore him: and is led by a straw, and playeth therewith: and is a right heavy beast in age and full sleepy, and lieth slyly in wait for mice: and is aware where they be more by smell than by sight, and hunteth and reseth on them in privy places: and when he taketh a mouse, he playeth therewith, and eateth him after the play. In time of love is hard fighting for wives, and one scratcheth and rendeth the other grievously with biting and with claws. And he maketh a ruthful noise and ghastful, when one proffereth to fight with another: and unneth is hurt when he is thrown down off an high place. And when he hath a fair skin, he is as it were proud thereof, and goeth fast about: and when his skin is burnt, then he bideth at home; and is oft for his fair skin taken of the skinner, and slain and flayed.

I have never heard a more accurate description of a cat. None of these estimable writers, though, mention the cat's strange predilection for being captioned.

There are lots of great cat illuminations, all pretty normal. The only Weird one I found was this one:



Because anyone who has ever spent a significant amount of time with a cat knows that any self-respecting feline would NEVER be so helpful. If Simon ever holds ANYTHING for me, I will say my final prayers, for I will know that my dying brain is probably hallucinating.

Cats have been memorialized in poetry, apparently, since time began. There's the wondrous Pangur Bán, written by a ninth century Irish monk. There's the 18th century "For Today I Will Consider My Cat Geoffrey" by Christopher Smart, as chronicled by the Acrene Wiseass almost two years ago.

And of course, there is the unparalleled "Ode to Spot," by Lt. Commander Data: