Max uses visualization and mime to inspire Wiky when they dance. “I’ll think of a sparkling river, and before I’ve even begun to mime paddling down it, Wiky has become a leaping fish. That may make me think of a crocodile eating her, but just as I begin jaw snapping, she becomes a fluttering bird trying to distract me. It’s a very stimulating technique, but you have to be careful. Once when we were dancing I visualized a bright red rose and then the fleeting image of a speeding red sports car entered my mind. At that very moment Wiky leapt sideways and crashed into the bookcase, which completely wrecked the dance sequence, not to mention one of my mother’s vases. I’ve spoken to other dance visualizers about this and the general consensus is that she responded to the flower as a bee and then had no time to change roles when the sports car came along. Her only course was to take evasive action.”
Wiky, you will be delighted to learn, is a cat. She is among a number of cats – including Nijinskat, Fluff, Boots, Zoot, Archie and Toffee – featured in the magisterially twaddle-packed book Dancing With Cats (1999) by Burton Silver and Heather Busch, authors of Why Cats Paint (1994).
Pansy Cradledew was excited to find this book for just 30p in her local library sale, and declares it to be possibly the best book bargain she has ever snapped up. You just know you’re in for a treat from the opening sentence of the Foreword by Swami Shakya Bahrain, Spiritual Healer, who declares “For some years now, a new consciousness has been entering our world, a new understanding of the energy fields that tie us and all…” – sorry, I fell into a doze there for a moment. Anyway, what we have is over one hundred pages filled with crackpots talking about dancing with their cats, accompanied by glorious colour photographs of said dances. For some reason an integral part of the pastime appears to be that the human dancer is dressed foolishly.
Those of you keen to pursue the activity – whether or not your cat bashes into the bookcase – may wish to visit this somewhat alarming website.
“For some reason an integral part of the pastime appears to be that the human dancer is dressed foolishly.”
I recommend a winter trip to the night clubs of York (or any other major Northern Town/City) to observe the queues outside them.
There’s some truly foolish dressing going on there.
OSM B:nn
Sounds insanely dangerous.