1793 Caticide

I was reading a guy the other day that I really like who has a blog on words (http://www.word-detective.com/) ---and apparently a very tight budget. So tight, in fact, that he misses meals from time to time. Despite that, he maintains the life of a cat.
Not without a sense of irony however. Recently he offered up a pocket cat philosophy I'm unable to resist sharing.
"Everybody likes cats. And, after a while, they bring out your philosophical bent, even if you never thought you had one. There you’ll be, sitting in your cold, dark house, impoverished by vet bills, shunned by friends who have just developed convenient allergies, with both your furniture and your future in tatters. At that moment, when all seems lost, you’ll pause, muse philosophically, and realize that you still have a prize more precious than gold — the knowledge that you have made one small, furry creature very happy. Because it just won a coin flip with you for the last can of Fancy Feast."
Oddly, that segues with a recent article I read about the good old toxoplasmosis parasite cats pass along to their owners via their feces. The cats not the owners. It's been known to affect rats, making them more docile and easier to catch.
Or perhaps just more fatalistic.
Because it's also been linked to schizophrenia in humans. And recently, a study or 46,000 Danish women appears to link it to suicide as well. People with cats are 1.5 times more likely to kill themselves, says the study. The cat parasite can actually "alter the chemistry of your brain." And perhaps cause tortuously rationalized behavior that makes you elaborately sacrifice your last can of Fancy Feast.
Then again, maybe Danish women get really despondent over shredded furniture.
America, ya gotta love it.