Lovecats

Last week I was playing the Cure and singing along when on came the song Lovecats. And stupidly I thought I should sing this song to my cat Bast who was right there. So I did, naively thinking it would be a light serenade for my cat. I was petting her and thinking she was enjoying this as much as I was.

Then came a line from the chorus: “I miss you, hiss you, lovecatsssss.” Notice it has 3 hissing sounds in this one line. I hadn’t. I had never noticed that before and because I sang that line, facing Bast, I got bit. Now it was not a terrible bite. No skin was broken. But it was obvious that I should not do this again.

Well played, Robert Smith and the rest of the Cure. I had a ticking time bomb in my song collection just waiting to be used some day. And over those thirty years or so I had a cat half the time so it was inevitable that I would be bit one day.

I think I was blinded by love. Specifically by the love in front of the word cats in the title of the song. How could a song that professes love to cats possible hurt human-cat relations. But the Cure had set their trap 30 years ago.

Really, I think it was the irony. Artists love their irony. I believe that Robert Smith and the Cure deliberately wrote the line in the chorus to make cats bite. Then they carefully named the song Lovecats to hide what they had done. I now know that the title of the song is ironic.

And speaking of irony, this little plot came from a band called the Cure. Shouldn’t a band known as the Cure do their best to promote and strengthen human-cat relations? They did not and now I know they meant the name of their band to be ironic.

So now I am thinking of starting a band and calling it the Remedy. It will have singles like Lovedogs, The Butterfly, Just Like H-E-Double Hockey Sticks, Far From Me, Dull Street, Girls Don’t Cry, In Between Nights, and Thursday I’m in Lust.

I’m thinking Lovedogs could have a line like: “Owwwwwwwwww, that grrrrrrrrrl is rough, rough.”

Maybe Robert Smith has a dog. Maybe he forgot about his booby trap line from 30+ years ago. Maybe he’ll get bit. Or some unlucky sap like me is going to get bit by his dog. Let’s hope it doesn’t puncture the skin. And on and on this nasty, ironic game might go.