Many years ago our family lived with a cat named Murray Christmas. Though he had a clever name, we could not claim responsibility for his naming. He previously had lived with a neighbor who moved away and asked us to care for him – though he did not need much care. Independent, self-assured, willful all described Murray.

One autumn afternoon I was sitting at our outdoor picnic table. Murray jumped up on my lap. I proceeded to massage his neck and head. At one point I apparently rubbed the wrong nerve. He cranked his head around and bit my hand – not enough to draw blood, but certainly enough to say "Watch it bud!".

I responded by flicking him in the mouth with my finger – not hard enough to hurt, but strong enough to retort "You better watch it cat."

His reply was to jump off my lap. He then paced nervously at my feet in what I would describe as figure eights. Then, without warning he rushed my leg, bit it, and tore off into the woods. Again, not hard enough to draw blood, but rather measured, declaring that he had the last word in this battle.

Somewhat amused I thought, "He is so human."

After telling this story several times, I finally understood - Murray was not acting like a human, but rather we humans often act like a mammal.