I’ve written about cats before. How they’re just a bag of pudding with a bony bit at the front end to keep their eyes lined up. I’ve written about their flappy aprons—where, according to my kind veterinarian, Tater Cat keeps her “healthy fat.”

She doesn’t keep it there anymore. She doesn’t have any to keep. She’s gone from about 13 pounds at one point to around seven, and don’t worry, she did that a few years ago for no obvious reason, and she’s going strong now, at over eighteen years. She looks like a kitten again. When she bounds about, which still occasionally happens, nothing is flapping.

What I was wondering now is how it is that cats walk around inside their pajamas in a way other animals that are not octopuses don’t? It’s attached, I assume, at a few anchor points, but how is it you can move her butt fur up around her ears and nobody squawks? The answer proved elusive.

When I looked up “why is a cat’s skin so loose” I found out that it allowed them to turn around when seized and defend themselves, which isn’t the answer to my question. I didn’t want to know the usefulness of the adaptation. I wanted to know how they’re able to move around inside their pajamas. I mean, if you grabbed me by my back fat folds, I would not be able to turn around and kick you in the nuts, if applicable. On the other hand, old ladies can get away with a lot because their skin has loosened up. Nobody looks anymore.

So instead I looked up what keeps our own skin in place, to the degree it does.

First off it says that, as we all know, skin is the largest organ in the body, no matter what that dude behind the dumpster says. And one of its primary functions is to protect you from harmful things in the outside world, like wetness, sun, cold, and people making fun of your internal organs. Also? It stores water and fat for you. It’s like one big flattened camel hump.

Dave

And it’s mostly hooked onto your interior because there are projections in the dermis that fit into pockets in the muscle area, like squishy Legos. I am assuming now that cats don’t have many of those. Instead, their skin sails around their inner pudding like shine on a soap bubble.

We people do have areas that are more or less unattached, like on the elbows, so that you don’t rip open when you rear back to throw a ball. And, of course, older people have considerably thinner skin.

Except in the metaphorical sense. We really don’t give a shit what you think.