
Cats And Dogs
one who demands a clearer adjustment to the universe than ordinary household platitudes
provide; one who refuses to swallow the sentimental notion that all good people love
dogs, children, and horses while all bad people dislike and are disliked by such. He is
unwilling to set up himself and his cruder feelings as a measure of universal values, or to
allow shallow ethical notions to warp his judgment. In a word, he had rather admire and
respect than effuse and dote; and does not fall into the fallacy that pointless sociability
and friendliness, or slavering devotion and obedience, constitute anything intrinsically
admirable or exalted. Dog-lovers base their whole case on these commonplace, servile,
and plebeian qualities, and amusingly judge the intelligence of a pet by its degree of
conformity to their own wishes. Cat-lovers escape this delusion, repudiate the idea that
cringing subservience and sidling companionship to man are supreme merits, and stand
free to worship aristocratic independence, self-respect, and individual personality joined
to extreme grace and beauty as typified by the cool, lithe, cynical and unconquered lord
of the housetops.
Persons of commonplace ideas -- unimaginative worthy burghers who are satisfied with
the daily round of things and who subscribe to the popular credo of sentimental values --
will always be dog-lovers. To them nothing will ever be more important than themselves
and their own primitive feelings, and they will never cease to esteem and glorify the
fellow-animal who best typifies these. Such persons are submerged in the vortex of
Oriental idealism and abasement which ruined classic civilisation in the Dark Ages, and
live in a bleak world of abstract sentimental values wherein the mawkish illusions of
meekness, gentleness, brotherhood, and whining humility are magnified into supreme
virtues, and a whole false ethic and philosophy erected on the timid reactions of the
flexor system of muscles. This heritage, ironically foisted on us when Roman politics
raised the faith of a whipped and broken people to supremacy in the later empire, has
naturally kept a strong hold over the weak and sentimentally thoughtless; and perhaps
reached its culmination in the insipid nineteenth century, when people were wont to
praise dogs "because they are so human" (as if humanity were any valid standard of
merit!), and honest Edwin Landseer painted hundreds of smug Fidoes and Carlos and
Rovers with all the anthropoid triviality, pettiness, and "cuteness" of eminent Victorians.
But amidst this chaos of intellectual and emotional groveling a few free souls have
always stood out for the old civilised realities which mediaevalism eclipsed -- the stern
classic loyalty to truth, strength, and beauty given a clear mind and uncowed spirit to the
full-living Western Aryan confronted by Nature's majesty, loveliness, and aloofness. This
is the virile aesthetic and ethic of the extensor muscles -- the bold, buoyant, assertive
beliefs and preferences of proud, dominant, unbroken and unterrified conquerors, hunters,
and warriors -- and it has small use for the shams and whimperings of the brotherly,
affection-slobbering peacemaker and cringer and sentimentalist. Beauty and sufficiency -
- twin qualities of the cosmos itself -- are the gods of this unshackled and pagan type; to
the worshipper of such eternal things the supreme virtue will not be found in lowliness,
attachment, obedience, and emotional messiness. This sort of worshipper will look for
that which best embodies the loveliness of the stars and the worlds and the forests and the
seas and the sunsets, and which best acts out the blandness, lordliness, accuracy, self-
sufficiency, cruelty, independence, and contemptuous and capricious impersonality of the