Monday, April 23, 2012


What is it about cats?

Why must they always sit in the centre of everything? On the nice pile of paperwork which they then rip to pieces to make a nice nest out of...on your arms as you sit at the computer working, which slowly go dead as you try and move the mouse without disturbing them...on your legs, particularly when they are at an uncomfortable angle so they slowly bend backwards at the knee with the weight of a sleeping cat...on your chest while you are sleeping so that eventually you feel you can't breathe because all the air is being slowly squeezed out of your lungs...or even just walking backwards and forwards in front of your face, rubbing themselves off you and walking across your keyboard while you try and type something...

Nothing is sacred to a cat. That glass of water you just put down is actually a nice drink your prepared specially for them, the bowl of ice-cream will do just nicely while you aren't looking as a pre-dinner snack, and the sofa is the perfect spot for vomiting up a dead mouse on, that fluffy cushion will soak up the bile very well thank you. There is no sense of guilt like there can be with a dog, instead they will sit there watching you as you clean up their poo/puke/headless bird-leavings/all three in the one go with a look of utter disdain on their faces.

The well-known phrase comes to mind - dogs have owners, cats have staff. I regret to say I am, like the majority of cat owners, a complete sucker. I get up to let them in doors, I refuse to get up to let people in doors due to a cat being comfortable on my lap, I put up with their general ill-behaviour, frequently catch the mice they lose in the house, worry about them late at night, chase off other cats while roaring like a lion to stop them scaring my babies, and just generally I am a total sucker, pandering to my cat's whims. But I am not staff. Staff are paid, staff have rights, this is pure slavery.


Felicity Ford said...

I know just what you mean. I am completely in the thrall of naughty Joey, who has weaselled his way into the very centre of my heart in spite of being demanding, noisy, self-centred and appallingly needy.

I'm not sure how it works, but I would never put up with the crap he gives us were he a dog. Yet somehow, as a cat, he gets away with it all. The sicked-up blade of grass; the tiny dead mouse that we must congratulate him on; the arse in the face, first thing in the morning; the heavy cat body squeezed between me and Mark on the bed; and the winding, miaowing, demanding behaviours of all hours of night and day, which seems to be as close as begging for treats as a cat is willing to go.

I think Joey gets away with it because he looks so cute when he curls up into a tiny donut and crosses his paws over his nose... really, is there anything cuter?

Have you ever seen this?

Big love to you and the cats x

Snag Breac said...

That was hilarious. Exactly it really.

Its also the disdain that gets to me...I'm there going "Here Puss! psh psh! Here puss puss!" ad infinitum, and the the cat is just looking in the other direction going "She's SO needy."

The arse in the face thing is a particular favourite round here. With the cats, that is, not me.

Yeah, we are all suckers!
love to you too!

Anonymous said...

LOL! Right on! I think it is the purr that gets me every time.