People have been for the rights of animals it seems even in the days of T.S. Eliot. The interpretations people has made in the past, some of them are not totally gotten rid of yet. It scared me when someone once referred to a situation in where a bee visited him at a certain time, this then meant something. This was confusing and upsetting to say the least of that debacle in my life. I was distraught at some stage later as to the question then - how must the bees feel about this kind of statements. As it seems in that specific statement I overheard, at a certain time the bees will then not be welcome at all on the planet. How must they deal with that? They dealt with it. They helped me to deal with it. One weekend I applied for a loan on a Friday and the money was sure to be available on the Monday. Somehow, I got distraut during the weekend - but along came the bees. A whole bunch of them. I knew now I must keep my whit as they are an inspiration as to also solve my previous dilemma of what must they do at a certain time of day. As they arrived at the time they were suppose, according to the story of someone I once knew, to have brought bad luck then. My being upset about their welfare regarding this matter was a huge little debacle in my life, one that surely hurt. The bees handled the situation very well, though, as with this situation where the money was surely to going to be available, they arrived on the hour that is supposedly to be one of bringing bad luck. When you think theoritically like in many ways, this kind of proof is also an ointment for the pain suffered as to where must these little bees then go at this time of day. It is too painful to bear as there is no proof to that kind of statements at all. Only proof the bees keep calm and are trying in their way to calm my being upset with such thoughlessness from some people to hurt the bees in this way. And they determined not only my hurt, they also tried to solve it in a beautiful way. Arriving in a time when this inspiration was a sure cure.
Today I can share this story as there is a poem regarding these kind of matters to show me, the animals are only but beautiful and amazing.
I came across this poem by T.S. Eliot.
Macavity: The Mystery Cat
Macavity's a Mystery Cat: he's called the Hidden Paw -
For he's the master criminal who can defy the Law.
He's the bafflement of Scotland Yard, the Flying Squad's
despair:
For when they reach the scene of crime - Macavity's not there!
Macavity, Macavity, there's no one like Macavity,
He's broken every human law, he breaks the law of gravity.
His powers of levitation would make a fakir stare,
And when you reach the scene of crime - Macavity's not there!
You may seek him in the basement, you may look up in the
air -
But I tell you once and once again, Macavity's not there!
Macavity's a ginger cat, he's very tall and thin;
You would know him if you saw him, for his eyes are sunken
in.
His brow is deeply lined with thought, his head is highly
domed;
His coat is dusty from neglect, his whiskers are uncombed.
He sways his head from side to side, with movements like a
snake;
And when you think he's half asleep, he's always wide awake.
Macavity, Macavity, there's no one like Macavity,
For he's a fiend in feline shape, a monster of depravity.
You may meet him in a by-street, you may see him in the
square -
But when a crime's discovered, then Macavity's not there!
He's outwardly respectable. (They say he cheats at cards.)
And his footprints are not found in any file of Scotland Yard's.
And when the larder's looted, or the jewel-case is rifled,
Or when the the milk is missing, or another Peke's been stifled,
Or the greenhouse glass is broken, and the trellis past repair -
Ay, there's the wonder thing! Macavity's not there!
And when the Foreign Office find a Treaty's gone astray,
Or the Admiralty lose some plans and drawings by the way,
There may be a scarp of paper in the hall or on the stair -
But it's useless to investigate - Macavity's not there!
And when the loss has been disclosed, the Secret Service say:
It must have been Macavity!' - but he's a mile away.
You'll be sure to find him resting, or a licking of his thumbs,
Or engaged in doing complicated long division sums.
Macavity, Macavity, there's no one like Macavity,
There never was a Cat of such deceitfulness and sauvity.
He always has an alibi, and one or two to spare:
At whatever time the deed took place - MACAVITY WASN'T THERE!
And they say that all the Cats whose wicked deeds are widely
known
(I might mention Mungojerrie, I might mention Griddlebone)
Are nothing more than agents for the Cat who all the time
Just controls their operations: the Napoleon of Crime!
T.S. ELIOT (1888-1965)
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