Azi am avut o zi super plina - a trebuit sa car tot felul de chestii prin campus din cauza unui mega congres international ce se tine aici - asa ca planurile mele de studiu s-au cam dat peste cap. Ceea ce-i foarte ok, deoarece in acest fel am mai cunoscut ceva persoane dragute.

Am discutat despre tot felul de chestii, printre care si mult iubitele de catre toti pisici [si Lante' are una, apropo :) ]. Am primit un link foarte fain de la J.P. [Kiitos, J.P] despre relatia dintre pisici si lumea monastica occidentala. Astfel, mi-am adus aminte ca am avut cu ceva timp in urma pe acest blog niste (pseudo) discutii despre animale si drepturile lor. Nu am sa dau insa link spre acel post deoarece consider irelevant tot ceea ce tine de acest subiect. Iubesc mult animalele - in special pisicile - dar aceasta nu inseamna ca sustin miscarile  pro animal rights si alte aberatii occidentale (si, mai nou, balcanico-ruso-asiatice) de acest gen (incluse aici si nebunii gen baby setting for animals, magazine de haine pentru caini si pisici, restaurante speciale etc.). Nu vreau sa generalizez, dar cred ca cei care isi imbraca, incalta (!), parfumeaza si masturbeaza animalele in toate felurile sunt la fel de tacaniti ca si cei care le chinuie.

Lectura placuta.

Light in the dark ages

Cats are suited to a monastic life; they spend hours in silent contemplation and have little interest in worldly goods. Back in the Dark Ages, a cat could do a lot worse than make a home in a monastery, with its warm kitchens and quiet, cool corners. Opportunist strays were adopted by monks who appreciated the pest control and waste disposal services they offered. No doubt the companionship was also a welcome intrusion into a life of isolation and austerity.  Monastery cats even made a contribution to one of the world’s most exquisite illuminated manuscripts. The Lindisfarne Gospels was created around the year 715 in the island monastery of Lindisfarne. On the initial page of St Luke’s Gospel, an elongated cat stretches along the right-hand margin. A chain of birds walk blithely towards the cat, whose belly is already full of their hapless friends. There is a touch of humour in the illustration, as well as an allegorical warning to the faithful. According to Michelle Brown, curator of illuminated manuscripts at the British Library (where the Gospels are on exhibition), the cat represents “the ever present threat of evil waiting to pounce on the unwary”.

Yet more cats decorate the Book Of Kells, another fine example of Celtic calligraphy, which was written around 800. In one image, two mice nibble at the Eucharist under the watchful gaze of a pair of cats. Two more mice have escaped peril by perching on the cats’ backs. Medieval Christians may have worried about animals consuming the body of Christ, and this illustration may allude to unworthy receivers of the communion host. The cats sit in judgment - but are they guardians of good or agents of evil? Either way, it is likely that these monk-scribes were familiar with real cats. According to Felicity O’Mahony, a librarian at Trinity College Library, Dublin, where the Book Of Kells is displayed, “It may be that the scribes were drawing the very animals that shared the scriptorium with them, keeping vermin away from expensive vellum.”

The close relationship between monastic scholars and their cats is reflected in an eighth-century poem written by an Irish monk: “I and Pangur Ban my cat, ‘Tis different tasks we’re at. Hunting mice is his delight, hunting words, I sit all night. So in peace our tasks we ply, Pangur Ban my cat and I.”

The medieval period was generally a very dark age for the cat. The animal’s association with witchcraft brought condemnation from the pulpit and cat massacres were widespread across Europe. But, as historian Donald Engels explains in his book Classical Cats, the mass persecution of cats didn’t begin until about 1000. Indeed, “the status of the cat had never been higher than in early medieval western Europe”. Cats were particularly highly valued in Celtic cultures, and Irish Christian missionaries may have spread feline appreciation along with the art of calligraphy. Cats retained some of the potent symbolic value they’d acquired in pre-Christian Celtic religion, when they were both revered and sacrificed.

They also had a practical purpose, which is probably why the 10th-century King Hywel Dda of Wales clarified the value of a cat in his legal codes. “At birth she is worth a penny,” so goes the law, “two pence after she has opened her eyes, and a groat if she has caught a mouse.” If a cat was killed, Hywel decreed that the owner should be compensated with enough grain to cover the dead animal from the tip of the tail to the head.

Celtic cats of yore are apparently still bankable. The Lindisfarne Gospels is priceless, but the British Library shop does a nice line in Lindisfarne cat souvenirs. [articol preluat de aici]

Un articol interesant: Our New Children: The Surrogate Role of Companion Animals in Women’s Lives.