Sex, Food and Meowing

Yes, all that from my kitchen window.

Tonight I had the joy [ahem] of seeing a typical feline copulation ritual. Plain white-and-grey tom-cat on black backalley-cat. Nothing too spectacular but the cacophony of loud sounds issuing from such tiny creatures. I turned away respectfully.

Only the rampaging tom-cat, I presume, had not ended his conquest. A mere hour later, one could hear the same rude concerto coming from the street corner. I was getting annoyed by the symphony and once again opened the window to my back yard. There, I found a beautiful cat - a Siamese beauty, with long tresses and eyes that [gave me the creeps and] glowed red in the light of my kitchen. It's raining heavily; I begin to pity my Siamese friend, and scavenge the refrigerator for a tiny piece of fish. Found! Thrown. Ignored.
"You little...!"

But the cat doesn't even turn to pretend to hear my indignation. No, she is staring at a fixed point somewhere down the street. There you have it, ladies and gentleman: live porn for felines. [A.K.A. the loudly rampaging tom-cat]
Okay, so I understand a feline has needs, but come on, people! I'm throwing expensive food at a cat who's been parading my garden wall for about an hour! In the rain! Practically begging for nourishment and comfort! You're seriously telling me you'd pick porn over food? Over warmth?
What if there's a nice side to it? What if the cat chose to escape from reality, into whatever illusion was before her? What if, for a second, she was more than a cat begging for food in the rain? A dream, her dream, her ideal. Maybe she wasn't really watching the live show. Maybe she was seeing sunshine, daisies and pretty little rainbows in her fantasy tom-cat's eyes. More than a cat. More than a beggar, more than hungry, more than sad and droopy. Maybe she had to choose between black, wet reality and painless fantasy. She chose the reality of her imagination; she chose to dream rather than to eat. She chose her heart, rather than her stomach.

Illusion over need? Mind over bulk? Essence over matter? Soul over body?

Apparently, felinity gives you that luxury.

["Stars shining bright above you
Night breezes seem to whisper 'I love you'
Birds singin' in the sycamore tree
Dream a little dream of me."]