FINDING COMEL
Comel, whose mother was a careless Himalayan and whose father was a passing rogue, went out Monday evening, just after supper. I saw him round about ten, walking shoulder to shoulder down the alley with a couple of his homies, a fat black Manx of easy disposition and a bellicose tortoiseshell with well-aerated ears. They had a ready-to-rumble look. Where they were going and what they had in mind, I didn’t care to know.
Tuesday morning, no sign of Comel. Spontaneous sleepover with his buddies? Maybe. It happens, but rarely. Usually I wake to the thud of him hitting my chest. He’s the first thing I see when I open my eyes and I’m the last thing he sees when he drifts into diurnal dreaming. It’s a bond, a habit. Absence is aberrant. Worry stirred in its dark corner. “For heaven’s sake,” I said to myself, “he’s a cat. This is what cats do. Vanish and reappear.”
The day evolved. I walked to the corner store, making a studied point of not fearing the worst. I looked up, rather than at the pavement where the cars sped by. I surveyed his favourite rooftops, alert for his signatory silhouette. No sign. A disappointment. Heading home, I allowed my eyes to drift to the asphalt. No sign. A relief.
Noon gonged. I quizzed the other animals. “Where’s Comel?” I asked his brothers, Tompok and Putih. He glanced at me without even feigned interest, returning to supplementing his furball savings account.
The dogs were no more forthcoming. As hunters, it must be said, they’re a dead loss. They were apparently bred to herd canapés.
Time and again, as day, as day waned, I went to the porch and unleashed my vast repertoire of “puss comes home” noises. Dusk came. I took my act on the road, trawling the lanes and by ways, shaking a tin of catnip treats, maraca-style, a low-rent Ricky Ricardo. I chirped and cooed and trilled soprano halloos.
“Puss-puss-puss-puss-puss-cat!”
Nothing.
I went home. I found a photo and a black felt marker. I got to work. Lost cat, huh?” said the woman at the 24-hours 7ELEVEN shop. “If you couldn’t find your cat as soon as possible, you will not get him forever because lots of coyotes out there.”
“Lost cat, huh?” said the guy at the grocery where I stopped to tape, “Saw one get run down the other day.”
The weather was no more accommodating than the clerks. The wind rose. The rain poured. Undaunted by storm and gale, and mindless of bylaws prohibiting the use of lamp standards for such purposes, I postered the neighbourhood. A girl on the stroll stopped to see what I was about.
“Awww,” she said, “you’ve lost your pussy.” I gave her a look that said, just don’t go there.”
“You know what I do when my cat goes missing? “What?” I said.
“I pray, sort of. I get a picture of her in my mind; I think of her being safe and in one piece. I surround her with light. And tell her to come home because everyone who was lost their pet asks me to do like this.” Then, they will get back their pet.”
“You want me to try it for you?” “Sure,” I said. What could it hurt?
She looked hard at the picture. She closed her eyes, just for few seconds.
“Okays,” she said. “Take care, now.”
“You, too,” I said, and we went about our respective business.
Comel was on the bed when I came home. He answered my many inquiries with a look of bland disregard. No explanation was forthcoming, not even a “been to London to visit the queen.”
In the morning, I went around and removed the posters, picked up the ones the rain had washed down, which was the most of them. REWARD! I’d written, in big black letters. I think I know who should get it. If ever our paths cross again, I’ll do the right thing. In the meantime, I’ll remember her face. I’ll surround it with light. I’ll imagine her safe.
Here, I am using Fallacy to explain about my ‘Finding Comel’ story.
1. Fallacy of Ambiguity
- Is a series of statements that is worded in such a way as to make the listener/reader lose track of “which one” you are talking about such as:
- The sentence confuses the listener/reader because it could refer to one thing or another thing and still make sense.
2. An Ad Populum Fallacy of False Dilemma
- It involves presenting two alternatives or one of which is horrible and leaving the listener/reader to believe that those are the only two alternatives that could be chosen.
3. An Ad Populum Appeal to Common Practice
- Someone tries to persuade you to act in a certain way or do something in particular because, “everyone else is doing it.”
- In a sound argument, the action must be justified on its own merits, and what others are doing, and the conclusions they may have reached, don’t really matter.
“You want me to try it for you?” “Sure,” I said. What could it hurt?
Tuesday morning, no sign of Comel. Spontaneous sleepover with his buddies? Maybe. It happens, but rarely. Usually I wake to the thud of him hitting my chest. He’s the first thing I see when I open my eyes and I’m the last thing he sees when he drifts into diurnal dreaming. It’s a bond, a habit. Absence is aberrant. Worry stirred in its dark corner. “For heaven’s sake,” I said to myself, “he’s a cat. This is what cats do. Vanish and reappear.”
The day evolved. I walked to the corner store, making a studied point of not fearing the worst. I looked up, rather than at the pavement where the cars sped by. I surveyed his favourite rooftops, alert for his signatory silhouette. No sign. A disappointment. Heading home, I allowed my eyes to drift to the asphalt. No sign. A relief.
Noon gonged. I quizzed the other animals. “Where’s Comel?” I asked his brothers, Tompok and Putih. He glanced at me without even feigned interest, returning to supplementing his furball savings account.
The dogs were no more forthcoming. As hunters, it must be said, they’re a dead loss. They were apparently bred to herd canapés.
Time and again, as day, as day waned, I went to the porch and unleashed my vast repertoire of “puss comes home” noises. Dusk came. I took my act on the road, trawling the lanes and by ways, shaking a tin of catnip treats, maraca-style, a low-rent Ricky Ricardo. I chirped and cooed and trilled soprano halloos.
“Puss-puss-puss-puss-puss-cat!”
Nothing.
I went home. I found a photo and a black felt marker. I got to work. Lost cat, huh?” said the woman at the 24-hours 7ELEVEN shop. “If you couldn’t find your cat as soon as possible, you will not get him forever because lots of coyotes out there.”
“Lost cat, huh?” said the guy at the grocery where I stopped to tape, “Saw one get run down the other day.”
The weather was no more accommodating than the clerks. The wind rose. The rain poured. Undaunted by storm and gale, and mindless of bylaws prohibiting the use of lamp standards for such purposes, I postered the neighbourhood. A girl on the stroll stopped to see what I was about.
“Awww,” she said, “you’ve lost your pussy.” I gave her a look that said, just don’t go there.”
“You know what I do when my cat goes missing? “What?” I said.
“I pray, sort of. I get a picture of her in my mind; I think of her being safe and in one piece. I surround her with light. And tell her to come home because everyone who was lost their pet asks me to do like this.” Then, they will get back their pet.”
“You want me to try it for you?” “Sure,” I said. What could it hurt?
She looked hard at the picture. She closed her eyes, just for few seconds.
“Okays,” she said. “Take care, now.”
“You, too,” I said, and we went about our respective business.
Comel was on the bed when I came home. He answered my many inquiries with a look of bland disregard. No explanation was forthcoming, not even a “been to London to visit the queen.”
In the morning, I went around and removed the posters, picked up the ones the rain had washed down, which was the most of them. REWARD! I’d written, in big black letters. I think I know who should get it. If ever our paths cross again, I’ll do the right thing. In the meantime, I’ll remember her face. I’ll surround it with light. I’ll imagine her safe.
Here, I am using Fallacy to explain about my ‘Finding Comel’ story.
1. Fallacy of Ambiguity
- Is a series of statements that is worded in such a way as to make the listener/reader lose track of “which one” you are talking about such as:
- Noon gonged. I quizzed the other animals. “Where’s Comel?” I asked his brothers, Tompok and Putih. He glanced at me without even feigned interest, returning to supplementing his furball savings account.
- The sentence confuses the listener/reader because it could refer to one thing or another thing and still make sense.
2. An Ad Populum Fallacy of False Dilemma
- It involves presenting two alternatives or one of which is horrible and leaving the listener/reader to believe that those are the only two alternatives that could be chosen.
- I went home. I found a photo and a black felt marker. I got to work. Lost cat, huh?” said the woman at the 24-hours 7ELEVEN shop. “If you couldn’t find your cat as soon as possible, you will not get him forever because lots of coyotes out there.”
3. An Ad Populum Appeal to Common Practice
- Someone tries to persuade you to act in a certain way or do something in particular because, “everyone else is doing it.”
- In a sound argument, the action must be justified on its own merits, and what others are doing, and the conclusions they may have reached, don’t really matter.
- “You know what I do when my cat goes missing? “What?” I said.
“I pray, sort of. I get a picture of her in my mind; I think of her being safe and in one piece. I surround her with light. And tell her to come home because everyone who was lost their pet asks me to do like this.” Then, they will get back their pet.”
“You want me to try it for you?” “Sure,” I said. What could it hurt?
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