Clawing at the Dow

When I was first told my dad about my LOLEconz idea, he scoffed. “What do cats have to do with the economy?” I scoffed right back. “Plenty.”

Case in point: Cats are to laser pointers, as humans are to the Dow Jones. (Or, in SAT-speak: Cats : Pointers :: Humans : Dow Jones)

Every now and then, if I’m feeling nostalgic, I like to take out the pointer my grandfather gave me for my 9^th birthday. When I was a kid, I used to aim the pointer at bullies’ foreheads, which would provoke their futile attempt to swat the red light away. Great fun, obviously, until one of them picked me up into the air, rotated me so I was parallel (not perpendicular) to the floor, and dropped me. I cried, people laughed at me, and I never pointed the laser at any human again.

Instead, I now point it at my cat (who shall remain nameless out of respect for her wishes). I usually point it right in front of her on the floor; first keeping it steady while she stares at it, ready to pounce. She’ll cock her head a few times and refuses to move away from it. Then I start to move it and she stalks it, still unable to separate herself from the red dot. When I start to move it erratically, she can’t resist. She’ll chase it wherever the light goes—the more it moves, the more she’s determined to stay focused. She is entranced.