Eye of the Tabby

So outsized is Garfield's self-regard that he does not differentiate between the sort of feelings Jon has for his girlfriend and the feelings he has for his pet. Garfield may or may not be half-joking in his eyelash batting and the flirty pose he strikes, ignoring the gulf of aesthetic standards and nature of the relationships. But whether Garfield equates, conflates, confuses, ignores or blurs these separate concepts of beauty, he does so because he cannot conceive that they co-exist, that Jon could appreciate both kitty and woman in different ways. All Garfield sees is that someone else is occupying some of Jon's brainspace, usurping the center of attention, he is not being treated as special and perfect, and in his last line shifts his shame onto someone else.

Here is a case where Garfield's enormous vanity works at odds with his propensity to sloth and gluttony. Garfield does nothing whatsoever to "keep [himself] up," unless we mean that he rigorously maintains a body shape like several water balloons in a fur backpack. These contradictions run deep in Garfield, tentacles rising out of a bottomless pool of aggressive narcissism.

The third joke is that Jon's experience of this conversation is his cat making a weird face at him — possibly he even understands that the cat is flirting with him — which he thinks is "strange." And even if Garfield actually were expressing sexual feelings for his owner, the reality is far stranger than Jon knows, as Garfield seems to be using the Hare Psychopathy Checklist as a lifestyle guide and has gotten halfway through.

A Mid-Pleistocene Night's Dream

Jon wistfully recounts an erotic dream to his cat, who mocks him in return. Before we get to the nature of what Garfield is up to, consider that we cannot understand, or at least confirm, that Garfield is being a wise-ass until the punchline. The strip is built so that the strange possibility exists that Garfield is actually recounting a parallel dream that reveals his hitherto unspoken feelings about Liz. Because we know Garfield better than that, it is fairly plain that he is taunting Jon. Though the human cannot hear the cat's thoughts, were Jon to glance behind him and observe Garfield's perfect mimicry of his posture and expressions, he would likely get the gist.

Jon's moony account centers around a dream. From his speech, Jon understands dreams in the Disneyland/Martin Luther King, Jr. mode, as a sort of fond fancy which is not yet manifest in reality, and/or a shimmering goal toward which one might aspire. Whether Jon considers the dream might have any psychoanalytic weight — Freudian, Jungian, or pop psycho-spirituality — is harder to discern. He likely understands the dream as a basic wish-fulfillment scenario, but he so starry-eyed that he fails to connect the dots and read the darker implications for his waking life. Enter Garfield.

Garfield, too, claims to have had a dream. (To head off Comment section wiseacres it doesn't particularly matter if Garfield actually had this dream or not; either way, his purpose is to submarine Jon.) Garfield's dream account begins identical to Jon's, but concludes differently.

Jon finds his dream "romantic," while Garfield does not. The cat's first point is that the dream is potentially entirely meaningless. With equal possibility, we may all dream of our waking-life lovers, movie stars, nonexistent people, and mortal enemies. Garfield does not have feelings for Liz, yet had a similar dream. Dream-Liz expressing her love is not the same thing as Jon's girlfriend saying she loves him in waking life.

Garfield both denies and and supports the argument for the wish-fulfillment dream (he is a cat toying with his prey, after all). We know it is unlikely that Garfield yearns for Liz's love, because we have deep knowledge of Garfield's character: his stunted empathy, displacement of libidinal energy onto food, a sadistic streak, etc... And, informed by that jumbled pathology, that is exactly how Garfield's dream plays out. Garfield's gluttony, pride, predatory instinct, hedonism and showboating converge in a dream of excess, power and consumption of another life. By placing his own fantasy next to Jon's, Garfield parodies Jon's desires, and also implies that he dreams bigger and better than his owner.

Dozens of mammoth carcasses in various states of preservation have been discovered over the last several centuries; the flesh has always been far too decayed, reeking and foul for consumption. Should a housecat attempt to eat of these specimens, he would likely become seriously ill. Other than these museum-case sources, Mammuthus primigenius is long extinct and unavailable for hunting or meat harvest.

Finally and most importantly, Garfield is illustrating to Jon that we dream of those things that are simply, completely, utterly, forever impossible in the real world. Among those things, says Garfield, is human love.

Canis Complexo Cattus

Affection in Garfield is an aggressive emotion, its most frequent expressions normally portrayed as unwelcome and overbearing. In its most common manifestations, we see Jon's desperation for love from Liz, and companionship and respect from Garfield, Odie's indiscriminate attacks of physical ardor, Nermal's narcissistic longing for praise and attention. This is not to say it is a negative, or destructive impulse, just that the infrequency of characters exhibiting reciprocity to caring and understanding give affection a specific power and commodity in the world as Garfield sees it. The means by which Garfield copes with this shortage is to channel desire into aesthetic passion for food, sleep, TV, flowers, etc., which he variously decimates or overindulges and exhausts the love-object. This is less self-delusory than an act of self-deprivation; in the interest of sustaining control over his surroundings and self, Garfield eliminates from his nature those desires which cannot be reliably self-fulfilled. In effort to maintain his Cool, love takes a backseat.

So when faced with warning that his tactics for moving through the world emotionally unscathed may be undermined by force, Garfield panics, and casts his normally cooling, penetrative gaze about in comic impotence. Love comes crashing, blundering in sudden and huge, but unstoppable even with forewarning. Garfield finds himself pressed face-first into a heart that mirrors his own technique of avoiding communication by taking what he wants by force; his eyeballs smushed the unavoidable reality of love's existence. You may be scared, but can't deny it, when it its clutch.

It's So Glandular II

This is the grand finale, I guess, so grab a cup of coffee and a plate of last night's lasagna. We're gonna be here awhile.

This one's for the fans. The composition echoes Jon's first kiss with Liz some 25 years ago. The poor guy's fashion sense has either degenerated or improved, depending on your stance on '80s cut suits and wide ties. Frankly, there's nothing inherently wrong with a plaid suit if you don't mix patterns with your tie.

Panel 1:
Now I've had my fair share of kisses under the waxing moon, but never found call to execute the stiff-armed death-grip wrist-grab Jon's pulling on Liz. Also it's funny that it force's Jon's lapel to curl up over his arm. The desperation of this stance ("you will NOT get away") leads me to believe this development doesn't force us to reinterpret the last 28 years as Liz totally masking her affection for Jon, but represents a slow erosion of her standards for a mate.

Liz's attire, a modernized, accessorized, sexier update of her 1981 eveningwear, could have been foreshadowingng for the most astute of Garfield students. Said students are probably wondering what Liz did with her yellow purse since leaving the restaurant, though. For those with a continuity bent, July 28 was never established as Jon's birthday until 2001, skipped again in 2002, and has only been granted silly minor gags ever since. Until today it's never been a landmark date.

Good Lord, check out the trolley on Doc Wilson! Maybe I stare at Garfield strips too much, but it's hard to recall anything sexier than Liz's arched back and sultry expression. Nor can I recall any reason for Liz and Jon to call their emotionally wrenching failed dates a "wonderful time."

Panel 2: The difference between the 1981 kiss and 2006 is a floating comics shorthand heart: it means "love". Although today's embrace is not as full-contact and PG-rated, the emotions are different. Except Garfield, that unflappable Buddha of negative virtue, who still stares with chilly disinterested cynicism at his master's folly. What's whirring in that cat-brain is not the shock we were promised by the promotional advertising for this story, but the timeless, coldly bemused refrain: Human love. It's so glandular.

Also: Is Liz talking while she's got a mouthful of Arbuckle tongue?

Panel 3:
So the newspaper headline that graced the Garfield homepage the last 11 days, "COMIC STRIP SHOCKER!" turned out to be an elaborate mislead. It is certainly what passes for a major development in this strip about inaction, but if something is to "doom" Garfield, it will be the ramifications from a Jon/Liz union, not this sweet and wistful little ending.

And the moon cycle changes as we watch, the glands pulse, the cat grins at us, and two people enter a new phase. Did you feel a little warm tingle in your heart? Do you find Garfield's closing sentiment cute? It's not a fare-the-well, folks: it's a punchline. When Garfield stares through the fourth wall, lids half-closed, mouth twisted into predatory sneer, that's when our boy is telling The Truth through sarcasm. If you think anyone in Garfield lives happily ever after, you haven't been reading Garfield long. Two people enter a new phase that looks like happiness. Ever been in love? The glandular rush is a tide that masks a shoreline of bloody shipwrecks like you've never seen. Yah tah tah tah.

Jon's Horoscope: Day Eleven

Hey Birthday Boy! For once your dreams come true! Say goodbye to the last 28 mind-numbing years of frustration and loneliness and celebrate your manly manhood with the love of your life... and your cat. Today's lucky number: 28 (duh)

It is not for Permanent Monday to subject its delicate readers to graphic descriptions of the activity implied by "celebrate your manly manhood". I do not discourage you from mailing me detailed, detailed fanfic on the topic though. It is up to you if Liz asks Jon to wear his fake moustache.

It's very silly that the newspaper publishes a horoscope written for one specific man. More silly is the implication today that Jon is 28 years old just because the strip is 28 years old. This makes less sense than Garfield's one-to-one aging with the strip, because it means Jon wasn't even born when Garfield debuted. So on June 19, 1978, Garfield is a 30-pound newborn kitten and Jon is a talking fetus.

I Got All My Whiskers With Me

That's really sweet... and it's Jon's guileless enthusiasm when he realizes they are a family that gets me. I'd like to think in panel two that everyone simultaneously realizes what they mean to each other. The cutest part is how Garfield has to maintain his curmudgeonly facade, but acknowledges the relationship, even if he has to couch it in sarcasm.

Except... what is Odie doing? NO! Why does he have to ruin this moment?

That drawing of Odie is so gross, and directed to no one but the reader. I'm used to this kind of sassiness on G-field T-shirts and merch, but it doesn't usually encroach on the strip this blatantly. Plus, I don't like the head-on view of Odie, because it reminds me that his tongue is wider than his head.

In other news, today the back page of the paper features a photograph of the cursive letter M.