In today’s N.Y./Region section of The Times, we learn that city inspectors take a dim view of cats in delis and bodegas, whose owners insist that the cats are necessary to keep away mice and rats. A quote from the article:

“Any animal around food presents a food contamination threat,” said Robert M. Corrigan, a rodentologist and research scientist for the New York City Department of Health and Mental Hygiene. “And so that means anything from animal pieces and parts to hair and excrement could end up in food, and that alone, of course, is a violation of the health code.”

Mr. Corrigan did concede that some studies have shown that the smell of cats in an enclosed area will keep mice away. But he does not endorse cats as a form of pest control because, he explained, the bacteria, viruses, fungi, parasites and nematodes carried by rats may infect humans by secondary transfer through a cat.

With respect to any “rodentologist” (who, as anyone living in Washington Heights will attest, can be important people to know), we will not dwell too long on the obvious stupidity of the city’s bureaucratic stance here, as we are confident that legions of others will point out that cats have been an important ally against rats and mice for approximately 5000 years (which is to say 4600 more than the existence of New York City), and will undoubtedly continue to do so into the indefinite future. Nor will we waste too much breath pointing out that your average cat spends far more time each day grooming and cleaning than even the prissiest queens, some of whom — but not us, except on the most important of occasions! — are known to devote quite a few hours to primping and detailing in front of the mirror before engaging the dirty streets of New York. En bref, on the substantive issue here, we will simply add our voice to those who agree that the city regulations need to be updated here to reflect the idea that a healthy cat given a reasonable amount of care (namely food, water and a clean litter box) is approximately 1,000,000 (one million) times better than the alternatives of either 1) rats and mice, or 2) poisons and chemicals.

But more than rules and regulations, we think of how our relationship to and understanding of the city has developed in conjunction to that of our appreciaton of cats. Cats were never a factor for us growing up in suburban Pittsburgh, and even in our first years in New York City, we were not interested except to the extent that they would annoy us with sounds of fighting and mating outside of our bedroom window in Park Slope. In our memories now, the turning point came perhaps 100 years ago, when our band was playing a show in Chinatown on the roof of a ancient, industrial loft building, half of which was still occupied by sweatshops; with no elevator available, we had no choice but to carry our gear — amps, drums, guitars — up six flights, and we were all amazed to see a vast array of cats peering out at us from all angles as we made this brutal ascent. To see such curious, metallic eyes (along with an understanding of why they were there) softened us, and from that moment on, we began to notice how they inhabited so many different corners of the city, as if they were a part of the shadows cast by so many buildings. Only later did we read Baudelaire and discover that such thoughts had long before been put to paper, and with breathtaking precision and beauty! Ever since then, we look a bit askance at those who criticize cats, seeing signs of our own soulless past in their brittle, neurotic routines.