Violence: how does it work? Also cats

I used to live with a cat.

His name is Simba, but I called him Cat for simplicity’s sake. That was the role he played in my life, so it seemed silly to call him anything else.

Our relationship was mostly a healthy one. I’d pet him, he’d paw me in the face — it wasn’t my job to feed him or clean his poop-box, so to me he was just a furry, naked roommate who rubbed his butt on the couch and wasn’t allowed to leave the house.

But life gets crazy and tense, and cats get annoying.

Sometimes it’d start with biting or clawing me as I waved colorful things in his face — he was just playing, and I knew that — but before I knew what was happening, I’d smacked him upside the head.

And sometimes I didn’t even need that much provocation. Sleep deprivation and high levels of stress mean low pain tolerance and jumpy as hell. There were mornings when all it would take for me to fly off the handle was the slightest interruption.

He’d jump and tap me on the back like a toddler starting a game of tag and I’d hurl the closest notebook at him. He’d approach me, all of a sudden asking for attention, and instantly I’d retaliate — pushing him away or gesturing violently until he’d leave me alone.

It’s easy to dismiss — he was never visibly injured or obviously afraid of me, but I knew I was doing something both wrong and irrational. And after hitting him, I’d immediately regret it.

Of course honest remorse doesn’t excuse abusing another living, feeling animal. And earnestly repenting didn’t stop me from doing it again.

But why? In no other situation am I anything that could be considered an angry or aggressive person. With Cat, however, I’d lash out without provocation or restraint.

Why? Because I can. I’m allowed to. Because my brain must know without my conscious go-ahead that there is nothing and no one to stop me.

I respect Cat as a fellow creature, equal to me in abstract terms; I even feel love for him; but I know he is weak, wholly in my power, a cuddly whipping boy on which to take out my momentary rage.
I like play time with Cat, but this is not play time. Like the domineering older brother, I alone decide when it’s play time.

My decision-making process at that point probably doesn’t even consider external factors like “laws.” There are few to no possible immediate consequences, so my subconscious mind throws impulse control out the window.

That is a problem. I’m working through it, but let’s leave my personal character out of the question for now. I might just be deflecting, but what’s more concerning to me is what this implies about violence in general.

I can’t help but wonder how this particular power dynamic must be replicated elsewhere. How much violence between siblings, spouses and nations must arise simply from this sense of control, this sense that one can act without fear of retribution?