Be The Person Your Cat Thinks You Are

I saw a sign today that said “Be the person your cat thinks you are.”

We have three cats that live in our house so I feel as though I can say, with some authority, that this is a terrible idea.

You might suspect the cats think I am their jailer (they are indoor cats) and, since I hold them hostage, I am also obligated to clean up after them, feed them and provide them with a safe environment to live in.

This is not the kind of person I’ve ever endeavored to be. Fortunately, I don’t think it’s how my cats see me either. Unfortunately, if you polled the cats I’m pretty sure you would find they actually think they are the warring queens of the household where they deign to live because, with nothing more than a swish of their tail and a well timed purr, me, their royal slave, will provide them with all their needs.

This includes (but is not limited to) meals with not only their own food but other choice tidbits as well (Translation: I feed them and they steal people food whenever the chance arises). Royal slaves are, as a matter of course, also expected to keep the castle clean enough or the queens will show their displeasure in a royal tantrum (Translation: If I don’t keep the litter boxes clean they’ll use my closet). All the catty queens must surely be treated as such and will only sleep in the warmest coziest areas (Translation: If there is no sunbeam on my bed on a cold day they’ll sleep on the computer’s keyboard and with a few well placed paws lock things up so it’ll take me three days to fix it). Finally it goes without saying that an out right order from slave to queen is out of the question and even a mild suggestion as to behavior is likely to be met with utter disdain (Translation: I have never managed to teach a cat manners).

I really, don’t ever, want to actively try to be the person my cats think I am and despite the sign urging me to do so, I can’t imagine why anyone else would want to either. My only conclusion is that cats are behind the creation of these signs in their never ending quest to take over the world.

But…

I’m going to let this girl under the covers to snuggle with me tonight when she comes asking…

…their plan is totally working.

 

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The Lion in the Living Room by Abigail Tucker

I live with three cats. Or perhaps it’s that I provide housing and food for three cats and also manage to have a life on the side – it’s hard to say with cats.

Since the newest one just climbed, claws out, up my back over my shoulder only to come to rest on my lap and arm and is now impeding my typing, it seems safe to point out that while I love my cats, I’m not always sure why I love my cats. 

The woman who wrote this book also loves cats but wasn’t really sure why, as whole, we love cats either. She researched the conundrum from ancient Egypt to the Internet with forays into parasitology and ecology and still isn’t quite sure.

Would I recommend it? Yes! Because even if you don’t like cats (possibly particularly if you don’t like cats) you want to know how they were used in medieval torture, the ecological devastation they have wrought around the world and how they affect our health.

Which Sarah?

I’m not the kind of person who is willing to let my kids name animals without my help. If that was the case we’d have a goose named Fluffy, a cat named Sparkle Kitty and a rooster named Roosty.

Actually we do have a rooster named Roosty and he has been a most excellent rooster for many years. Many years, as in almost five years, which in case you are wondering is a lot of years to be using a ridiculous name for a barnyard animal that you call by name far more often than you ever suspected you would.

And this is why I now have veto power when it comes to pet names. Veto power that has prevented the new kitten from being named Sparkle Kitty or Lestia or Falasha or Sarah.

Now Sarah might sound like a fine name compared to the others but that’s because you’ve not heard the follow up question asked in my household every time anyone utters the name Sarah. And it’s not something easy like “Which Sarah?” Oh no, it’s, “Sarah your friend or Sarah Jonas’s mom or Sarah Wren’s mom or Sarah the cat?”

The kitten came to us with the name Sarah but it only took about twelve hours for the name Sarah Cat to be vetoed by the mom who was losing her sanity trying to differentiate between all the Sarahs in her children’s lives.

Sadly, Baroness Sarah McCutiePie Von Stuffington of Sunshine Manor didn’t really work out as her new name because the kids just called her Sarah for short… “Wait… do you mean Sarah your friend or Sarah Jonas’s mom or Sarah Wren’s mom or Sarah the cat?”

After much debate and a brilliant intervention by Sarah (Sarah my friend, not Sarah Jonas’s mom or Sarah Wren’s mom or Sarah the cat) the new kitten has been named Simone.Simone

Otherwise known as:

-“The kitten… umm …what’s her name again?

– “Sarah”

-“Not Sarah… Oh! Simone!”

– “No Sarah!”

-“No! It’s Simone now.”

-“But she was responding to Sarah!” (She is a cat, she wasn’t responding.)

-“Well Sarah, I mean Simone (insert cute kitten activity here) it was so cute!!!.”

-“Sarah the cat or Sarah mom’s friend or Sarah Jonas’s mom or Sarah Wren’s mom?”

It’s going to happen though. The power of the veto is going to hold and the cat is not going to be called Sarah. And my children are going to learn to use context to answer their questions because I don’t care what my fourth grade teacher said, there are all sorts of stupid questions a person can ask. Already in our family of five at least two people call the kitten Simone at all times and can determine which Sarah is being referred to using nothing but the context of conversation at least 90% of the time. The other, shorter, three are getting there – kind of.

But please, please, for the love of Pete, if your name is Simone, though I’m sure you are a fantastic person, don’t introduce yourself to my children!