Cats, much like humans, have their own temper and phisiognomy, and all share that particularly erogenous zone where tail meets body that never fails to, when aroused, elicit the most varied responses from each and every feline. This almost certain universality, juxtaposed with their proud façades, reveals them as no more than budget humans, flawed creatures that try to seem imposing and pretend to be what they're not. While the other critters feign physical aspects, such as the threatened beetle playing dead, the salamander dropping its waggling tail or the cornered mantis waving his arms around, the cat masks his personality, not only his visible characteristics. Perhaps it was this that the egyptians saw on them, for to be concerned in what others see in one's self even when it carries no implicit consequence is vanity, and vanity could only afflict that which stems from the divine. Flies and rats have no problem wallowing in filth, while cats will obstinately refuse any food that is not to their liking, even if they can eat it.