"Something Other Than Cat"

She threw me out of the car.

Holly Golightly, that is.

She could not see how throwing me from the car hurt me deeply. She could not see how she affected anyone—from men she met in bars, desperate to go to bed with her; to Mr. Yunioshi, her neighbor, who wished her to tone down her wild parties; to Doc, who wanted her to be his wife again; or to Paul, the writer who found a reason for living in this “lovely, frightened girl,” as he described her in his new story.

Me, I had been sent to help Holly.

It wasn't easy.

Holly had refused to name me after finding me.

“Cat,” she called me.

I knew—even before she told Paul—that the reason she could not name me was because she could not “name” herself.

She was never “Lulu Mae,” as Doc called her (She had outgrown that part of her life.) Neither was she “Holly Golightly”—which her agent called her—her stage name for that infamous screen test which she blew because she was not in California but in New York.

She was, like many people, looking for herself.

And not finding it.

Paul was skeptical at first. But he had the writer’s curiosity that seeks to understand, even if his facial expressions, if you watch them closely, reveal that he disliked many things he learned about her.

Still, she was “lovely.”

And as all witches and their familiars know, beauty—like sex— draws humans toward each other.

To get a better look.

Or as one cat I know says...in order for humans to get over their innate shyness.

I was neither shy nor desirous of getting involved. I watched Holly’s parties from atop a bookcase, fascinated by the crowd of partygoers who thought they could find themselves by currying favor with rich magnates, like Rusty Trawler, or agents, like O.J. Berman. They thought they could lose a day of their lives by drinking themselves into oblivion, forgetting that time should not be wasted, even when you've got nine lives. (I actually have unlimited lives, as everybody does. You keep getting put back in the maelstrom to help the next person, like I was assigned to help Holly. Reincarnation never takes a powder.)

But back to the party...lost souls, all of them!

Why else—but that she is a "lost soul"_would the female partygoer, who calls herself “Irving,” give her wrong name when O. J. Berman asks for it? Then she makes out with him in the shower, where Paul finds them when he tries to escape through the bathroom window after the police are called by Mr. Yunioshi because of the noise.

Why else would Rusty Trawler, who Holly calls the world’s “ninth richest man,” even be at the party? Except that he, too, is looking for himself? And because he is so eager for confirmation of whom he is, he mistakes Holly's attention for genuine liking. A fat, ugly, man, going after gorgeous Holly Golightly?

Holly wasn't all that nice a person, really.

Someone watching the movie closely might notice Holly elbowing me in the kitchen, when I got in her way. Holly was positively negligent in her treatment of me! The only genuine affection she showed me was to once or twice stroke me lovingly (But she otherwise acted as if I were a mere nuisance!)

Not everybody should be a pet owner.

Of course, Paul had his own problems. How could Paul find himself when he let a married woman use him to make up for a dull marriage? Then, in order to pay the rent, he works on a second novel when the first novel is barely out the gate.

Of course, writing is never a lost cause. Anyone who writes has already taken the first step toward knowing themself. It takes a lot of courage to put yourself down on paper.

But although he's besotted with Holly, Paul doesn't really connect with her romantically until that glorious day spent in the city, doing what each has always wanted to, but never did. Then, in Holly’s vestibule—at the end of that fabulous day—their lips touch in a mutually admiring kiss.

Still, Paul must watch helplessly when Holly’s relationship with the rich and charming Jose fails, and the resulting desolation pushes her towards the idea of leaving New York completely. Alone.

By which time they are in a cab headed for the airport, after Jose has dumped her because his reputation cannot afford her being in the news over Sally Tomato.

What chance would Holly have of surviving alone, in Bueno Aires?

In the cab, Paul tries to explain, exasperatedly, that he loves her—and that he owns her—and that he won’t allow her to do what she’s planning to. Then she leaves the cab in search of me, and Paul follows her.

When you’re really in love, you don’t let anything stop you.

No, you get out of the cab, and follow Holly to where she looks, in utter despair, for me!

At the end, she is looking for me!

In my humble opinion, it is a highly satisfying ending for the film.

Spiritual evolvement notwithstanding, even I like to be sought after! Many humans I am sent to help are not very thankful.

Helping them in whatever ways I do can sometimes feel thankless. Humans can be so frustating! They hardly ever do what they're supposed to! Cats are so much wiser! They just sit around, taking in life like a meditating person on perpetual vacation.

And what of the couple’s future, both of them embracing me now in the drenching rain?

First things first. Get out of the rain.

I assume they’ll get married. He'll move in with her or she'll move in with him. Holly will stop taking money from men. This will be progress. Holly needed to get real about ways to make money.

Paul will continue to publish. Although it’s hard to see how they will pay the rent until he sells his next book. You can't live on love alone. The characters in Elvira Madigan and Romeo and Juliet proved that.

But the whole point of the movie is that “Love rules.” Which it does. If you ask a cat's opinion.

And because “Love rules,” Holly will finally name me.

Something other than “Cat.”