Posted 06 January 2006 - 07:19 PM
I too read that article cover to cover and have gone afield doing further research....
My cat Ziggy could jump 5 feet from the floor and land on an embroidered cloth covering a hard-topped turntable without skidding even a fraction of an inch.
It thrilled me no end to discover that the cheetah comes from a family of cats that evolved in the Americas and migrated BACK to Asia and thence into Africa.... Cheetahs are the most beautiful things to watch run there ever was -- They're THE fastest land animals, can run 65 miles an hour, can get 0-30 in 3 seconds, in full career their backbones look like ropes with waves up and down them and actually dislocate in the process. (Saw it on the Animal Channel.)
Yes, Denby compared a good pas de deux to meeting a cat on the street at night -- she comes up to you, you offer your hand, maybe she rubs it, maybe not, but if she does, you rub one cheek, then the other, and then she walks away for a moment, comes around behind you and approaches from the other side, you stroke her back, she takes three steps, turns round comes back, you do it again, but now it's the other way...
Very simple rules for how to construct a good pas de deux, it's amazing how many bad choreographers don't follow them....
Ziggy taught me a dance for the moon roof. One year -- around 1997 -- I went swing dancing every other night, and would get home often around one in the morning. Ziggy knew the characteristic sound of my car -- a 1981 Datsun SX -- and would be out at the street to greet me and would jump onto the hood just as I'd park. If I was listening to a song on the radio I wouldn’t necessarily get out of the car right away – so she took to walking up the windshield onto the roof. So I'd open the moon roof a crack and wave and she’d put her nose out and I’d stroke her whiskers, whereupon she'd walk back down the windshield and come round to the driver’s side window, which had an electrical control and I'd glide it down, at which point she'd usually step onto the shoulder of the bucket seat and walk round the back as I’d reach over the top of my head and scratch between her ears. She'd sometimes step down onto the gear-shift and let me stroke her back, but if she did, it never lasted long before she was back onto the seatback and onto the window ledge again. She did not like getting into cars, even if they weren't rolling, except for this ritual greeting, and it was clear at this point that it was time for me to stroke her back, let her jump down, and then for ME to get out of the car and walk her to the door and let her into the house.
It was never the same twice -- one night I hit the remote and lowered the window on the passenger's side, so she obligingly stepped up onto that ledge and looked out, but she wasn't interested in any developments of that motif. Another, very special night it became a pas de trois as a cop car rolled quietly by, stopped about 15 feet ahead, slowly backed up, rolled down its window, and the driver asked “is everything all right?” Ziggy obligingly popped her head out the moon roof and I was able to explain, and he drove off again about his rounds.
Oh, GOd, how I loved that cat. She was so good to me.
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