my cats are jerks. if you have a cat, you might agree. sure, they are cute, and playful, and even (sometimes) sweet, but that is how they bribe us into putting up with the moments of domestic hostility. do not be fooled by the cuteness. that is a viscous, spiteful beast.
the crazy part of life with cats is that they make you feel guilty for doing the most innocent things. i removed the contents of this box, and walked down the hall to put them away.
i returned to flatten the box for recycling, but it was already occupied. so, that box sat in the middle of the living room for the next week. it is more than a month later, and if she stands in that spot and looks in my general direction, i still feel guilty for throwing it away.
then there are the parts of life with cats that leave you questioning why you let them into your home in the first place. my two girls have decided that it is my job to keep them fed, because he... well, he is far too busy being their favorite deity.
me: [stumbling sleepily into the studio where my favorite animator is already working] uhm... do you realize the dry food bowl is totally empty?
him: oh... really?
me: seriously... didn't you hear them crying?
at which point i look down at the two cats by my feet, one of whom is chomping at my exposed calves, while the other one delivers a loud, vocal assessment of my performance as a human being. it is never positive.
him: there was no crying. they've been fast asleep on the couch since i got out of bed.
me: when did you get out of bed?
then comes the moment that leaves me wanting to scream.
him: i don't know... maybe a couple hours ago.
me: [speechless... and utterly defeated]!
then he looks down at the cats (one of whom is by now attempting to take a chunk out of the back of my thigh, while the other one holds me in a gaze composed of equal parts disappointment and disdain). he looks back up at me and breaks into a gigantic, smug grin, and i am left to (once again) accept the fact that my cats are sexist (and—just possibly—racist) jerks... and he is their willing accomplice before, during, and after the fact.
still, there are those awesome moments, like when i am in my quiet corner and Mama Kitty shows up and plops down next to me. she does not meow (or bite, like the little one) when she wants affection. instead, a white paw reaches out and just barely makes contact with your person. it is what we have termed "a polite demand for love".
i really hope she is using this time to reassess my performance as a human being.