Don't oh darling me. Not about this, you won't.
Even if none of this would have precluded Penelope's own visit in any way whatsoever, on the other hand.
So that what one is now naturally forced to suspect is that very likely it was the latter who gave Helen the cat, rather than Cassandra who did.
Well, and doubtless it would have been exactly like Penelope to think of an animal in any event, what with being so accustomed to a dog at home.
Although in fact she had a cat, too. Even if what I had almost been about to forget next is that there is actually a painting showing this, by somebody named Pintoricchio.
I am fairly certain I have mentioned the painting by Pintoricchio showing Penelope's cat.
I am even fairly certain I have mentioned that the cat in the painting is russet.
Even if as I have long since indicated russet is not a name one gives to a color.
I believe it may have been Rembrandt who first established this rule, actually, although in more recent years it was Willem de Kooning who most strongly insisted upon it.
Then again I may have also spoken about a cat of my own as having been russet in spite of this, now that I think back.
That would have only been carelessness, however.
And at any rate none of these cats is by any means to be confused with Rembrandt's own cat, which I bring up only because one might understandably think of Rembrandt's cat as having been russet as well, if for no other reason than russet being a color one automatically associates with Rembrandt.
Rembrandt's cat was actually gray. And had only one eye.
Which may very well be an explanation for why it always strolled right past those gold coins on the floor of his studio without so much as a glance, as a matter of fact, even though I had never stopped to think about that before.
Which is to say that doubtless it had generally passed the coins on the wrong side and so had not noticed them at all.
A good number of people also happened to disapprove of that same cat's name, by the way, which was Argus.
There was an explanation for this, too, of course.
The explanation being that the original Argus had been a dog.
In fact the original Argus was the very dog I have just been talking about, and which is therefore even something of a small coincidence, when one comes down to it.
After all, how often does one happen to be talking about the dog who recognizes Odysseus when he finally returns to Ithaca after having been gone for so many years but then dies?
Or which Penelope becomes so accustomed to that it reminds her to bring other animals as gifts, whenever she visits anybody?
Still, people did voice disapproval over Rembrandt having named his cat the way he did.
Now how could anybody be so foolish as to name a cat after a dog? This basically having been the manner in which such disapproval was voiced.
And which brings up Carel Fabritius once again, also, if only insofar as there would appear to be no record as to whether Carel Fabritius was one of the people involved in this or not.
One guesses that in having still been a pupil at the time he would have very likely kept his opinion to himself, however.
Although doubtless many local merchants would have handled the situation in much this same manner, as well.
Well, tradesmen generally being less apt than most people to express disapproval in any event, so as not to lose patronage.
Have you heard? Rembrandt has gotten a cat that he has named after a dog. Most probably this is approximately the manner in which the local pharmacist would have put it, say, insofar as such a simple statement does not necessarily have to be interpreted as showing disapproval at all, really.
Most probably the pharmacist would have put it in just this manner to Spinoza, in fact, on the next occasion when Spinoza had a prescription to be filled.
Or needed cigarettes.
Then again it is equally possible that Spinoza may have heard about the name from Rembrandt himself.
Well, as when waiting on line in the same shop, for instance, which the two of them were frequently known to do. Certainly as no more than casual acquaintances they would have found this a perfectly harmless subject with which to pass the time.
So. And have you thought up a name for your new cat yet, Rembrandt?
As a matter of fact I am naming him Argus, Spinoza.
Ah, so you are naming your cat after the dog in the Odyssey,are you?
One assumes that Spinoza would have answered in something like this fashion, all of this again being merely polite. Assuredly he would have looked at the matter in a different light later on, however.
Now how could anybody be so foolish as to name a cat after a dog? Assuredly it would have been more in this sort of a light that he looked at it then.
But in the meantime what is also highly probable here is that Rembrandt himself would not have been aware of one bit of this.
Well, certainly a man facing bankruptcy would have had little time to waste in thinking about a cat in either case.
So that doubtless as soon as the animal had been named he would have again been preoccupied with other matters entirely.
Such as finishing The Night Watch,for instance.
Interestingly, by the way, I had never understood what it was supposed to be about The Night Watchat all, when I had only seen reproductions of it.
When I finally walked into the Tate Gallery in London and saw the canvas itself it sent shivers up and down my spine, however.
As if there were a glow from inside of the pigments themselves, practically.
So that I was even more careful with it than with any other painting I had ever removed to make use of the frame from, I suspect.
And especially when I was nailing it back into place.
Even though my fire had almost gone out before I was finished, too, as I remember.
To this day I have never quite been able to solve how Rembrandt managed to bring that off, either.
Well, which is why he was Rembrandt, presumably.
Have I ever said that my pickup truck has English license plates and a right-hand drive, incidentally?
Heaven only knows what it was doing parked at one of the marinas here. But I have been driving it locally ever since.
Although there is one more thing I had wished to point out about that question of Rembrandt's cat before I leave it, actually.
Which is the way in which so many more people happened to be familiar with the writings of Homer in those days than would have been the case later on.
Here we have Carel Fabritius and the pharmacist and Spinoza, all immediately recognizing the name of the dog. Well, and not to mention Rembrandt himself, who chose it.
But for that matter doubtless Jan Vermeer would have recognized it just as quickly, once he in turn became a pupil of Carel Fabritius and Carel Fabritius was explaining about russet and bedspreads.
Well, and as would Leeuwenhoek and Galileo, doubtless, having been in Delft, too.
Conversely if I had named my own russet cat Argus I am next to positive that not one solitary person I knew would have made the connection with Odysseus's dog at all.
As a matter of fact the only individual I can recall personally who ever did make this connection was Martin Heidegger.
I have perhaps said that badly.
In saying that I can personally recall Martin Heidegger having made this connection very likely what I have implied is that I once spoke with Martin Heidegger.
Martin Heidegger is not somebody I once spoke with.
As a matter of fact another implication in that same sentence would presumably be that I might have understood such a conversation if it had occurred.
Which I would not have, obviously, not speaking one word of German.
Not that it is of course impossible that Martin Heidegger spoke English on his own part, although I did not ask him that, either.