Terry Bain

Absolutely hilarious. Told in second person, the book captures the randomness and wonder of a dog's existence. For instance, a dog is certain that "The vacuum wants to eat you and eat the sofa and eat the children." "You" love almost everyone and everything, from your baffling, inexplicable love for the kitten (It's your tail. Leave it.) to your affection for the neighbor. Throughout the book, there is that touch of pathos that characterizes a dog's life--those lonely days in the back yard, show more waiting for her people to come home. Eventually, though, Those WHo Would Bath You (including He Who Leaves the Seat Up That You Might Drink and She Who Lets You on the Bed After He is Asleep) will return. show less

I haven’t had a cat since my divorce ten years ago. That cat died earlier this year at the age of twenty. Her name was Bugs. Her younger “sister” Rerun died a few years back. Before Bugs and Rerun, there was Arnie, Heather, and maybe a Kiki. Can’t remember. Lately, the only cats I encounter are the dozen that hang out in front of the corner house at the entrance to our cul de sac. I don’t think they live at the house. It’s more like a commune outside, where they lounge around in show more the middle of the street, engage in free love, and dart in front of the neighbors’ cars as if they were hired to test our brakes.

But those are Other Cats — a term Terry Bain uses in his book We Are the Cat. It’s a follow-up to his first book, You Are a Dog. Yes, they’re quirky titles, but they fit the style of the books. Bain is a young Spokane writer that I first heard about in my college alumni magazine upon the publication of the first book. He went to UPS a decade after I did (I’ve never met him) but that first excerpt won me over. You Are a Dog was written in the second person (!), and told you exactly how dogs think. (And remember: YOU are a dog.) I’ve always liked dogs and it was dead on, telling you about your relationship with other dogs (including the unseen dog barking a few fences away), squirrels, toilet water, toys, etc.

I read that book in early 2005. The cat book was published last summer and was written in the more familiar first person. The “we”, of course, is a “royal” we. (We’re talking cats, remember?) I’m more of a dog fan than a cat fan, so it didn’t strike as much of a chord with me as the first book, but it was still engaging. It delved into a cat’s obsession with being outside, no, inside, no, outside, no… well, just leave the door open. Or get rid of the door. It’s silly anyway and doesn’t please us.

Bain isn’t a psychologist but he seems pretty good at connecting with the way these pets think. Watch a cat closely and you can just imagine the running monologue going through her head. Even the offbeat humor that pops up throughout the text seems appropriate. Not that cats engage in humor for our benefit. They’re not there for our entertainment, of course. But we humans — “laps” in Bain’s book, for our single-most important skill of making a warm lap whenever we want — are there for them. Or should be. Open the door again. The cat wants in.

Or out.

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This book is so funny I found myslef laughing out loud several times. It also made me cry a lot on certain passages. It made me think like a dog and actually understand a couple of things about my dog. I guess you just have to have a dog to identify with this book.

A lightweight, mildly amusing tale of life from the viewpoint of the family cat. The use of the royal we is maintained throughout the book, and at times it's necessary to stop and remember that this is one cat, and not a general statement about cats. The cat gives you her opinion on all sorts of aspects of daily life, such as doors, dogs, computers, running water, food dishes, and so on. It reads quickly and is the sort of book that can lighten up a plane ride or serve as a short break show more between books of heavier import or more serious fiction. show less