I Want the Cat’s Job: An Existential Reflection
After living all these years as the only male in an otherwise all female household, I already identify as a pet, so why not apply for the job?
It’s called “Kitty Envy” and I have it big time.
The Hours Are Great
I figure Yogi, our cat, sleeps at least 20 hours a day, if not more. While I can’t hit those prodigious numbers, I promise to try my best. I’ve always been a good napper, though I am envious of how she can fall asleep the second her head hits the ground. I’ve always had to read a book to get sleepy, and I know for a fact that cat has not read anything since we’ve had her. I’m not sure how she does it, but it may be something in the catnip, so I’m willing to try that if it helps.
I already catch all the mice, bugs and spiders, but here’s the difference (and it’s a biggie): I don’t bring them to you, leave them on your bed or drop them right in front of your bedroom door. Yogi is a little huntress but she never listens to anybody, or maybe she does. Last time we left her alone, we told her not to bring in any dead birds as she has time and time again. Well, she must have listened because I came home to a snake on my kitchen floor. Oh, she was mighty proud of that stunt, especially when I squealed like a stuck pig. I am scared to death of snakes. Luckily, the wife is not, and she took the 3-inch long monster out back. One promise I can make: no snakes on the kitchen floor.
The Hair Apparent
One big problem with pets is the shedding. Their hair gets everywhere—and I do mean everywhere. Old men shed as well, but you’re not going to find my hair everywhere. We may have to unclog the shower drain once in a while, but I’ve never seen the wife get the lint brush out to wipe all my hair off her sweater. Last time I changed the vacuum filter—which I admit was years ago—it wasn’t MY hair that was clogging the thing up, that’s for sure.
Run for Cover
Speaking of the vacuum cleaner, I’m as scared of that thing as the cat is. If the wife fires it up, I disappear; that is one thing we do have in common. I don’t like the sound of it and I certainly don’t care to use it. Having company over provides the same result. Yogi runs under the bed when the doorbell rings and I would too if I could fit. I don’t care if it’s the neighbor wanting to borrow something, a solicitor or, worst of all, an in-law; nothing good comes from that doorbell.
All You Need is Love
Nothing is as relaxing and exudes love more than a cat purring on your lap. Well, maybe an endless dispenser of chicken wings and beer, but that’s another matter. While I can’t fit on a lap and my purring is more like moaning, I do like to be petted. Not only do I enjoy it, but can return the favor as well. Heck, if I got half the attention the cat gets, I could step up my game. I may not sleep on your feet when we’re in bed like Yogi does, but if that’s what it takes, I’ll do it. I really want that job.
A Close Race
Okay, I admit, the job is taken and Yogi’s doing a pretty good job. We’re pretty close in this race though. I’ve noticed whenever she meows, the immediate response is, “I know.” It’s kind of the same response I get when I say anything, though with not quite such a friendly tone. I should point out, though, that, in my defense, I can take a pill without you shoving your fingers down my throat. It’s also a lot easier getting me into the car, and it’s been a long time since I peed on the rug.