My Cats

My cats and I have come to a bizarre crossroad in our relationship. Things have been getting weirder and weirder, but I think I have finally figured things out and I have come to grips with how things really work- at least according to my cats.

Despite the fact that I am any number of times their size, my cats seem to want to boss me around. They do not work, they provide little in the way of entertaining diversion, but they come running any time I enter the kitchen- they run twice as fast when they hear a can opener. If there is something to eat, my cats are sure to be in on the action.

My cats do little in the way of cleaning up after themselves. I change their litter, cleaning it daily, and I brush them and I vacuum up the hair that they leave everywhere. I do appreciate the fact that they use their litter box and not the living room floor, but that is hardly a useful contribution to the family.

My cats have the run of the house- I let them sleep and preen and play wherever they want. Most of the time, they choose the place that is most inconvenient for me- the clean folded clothers in the basket, the ironed shirt waiting to be worn to work. Still, I am patient with them, despite the fact that they are always messing something up or knocking something over every time I turn my back or leave the house.

Of course I provide food and security for them- that goes without saying. In short, I never ask for anything from my cats except companionship, and even then I rarely get that in return.

When I call my cats- they rarely come. Not that there are that many times when I have said to myself- “Geez- I really could use my cats right now with this project.” Regardless, a little attention would be nice. Although I must admit, they are often watching me from a distance- not offering to help, but making sure I do things the way they want them done. Usually they are on top of a cabinet, looking down on me in an arrogant fashion.

When I reach down to rub their bellies, I am usually bitten. When I work on the computer, I am usually greeted with the perfectly placed southern end of a northbound cat- this is Tunch’s idea of giving me affection- cat booty in the face while I am trying to read. When friends come over, the cats ignore me and do none of the entertaining things they do when no one else is around- making me look like a liar and a fool. When I finally go to sleep, my cats either decide to play on top of me, or start meowing about something or another.

Lately, though, things have taken a turn for the worse. My cats are actively trying to kill me. Oliver tried to trip me this morning while I was carrying boiling water to my coffee press. Both cats have become experts at winding in between my legs when I walk, almost causing me to fall. Tonight, they both sat in the narrow hallway, biting my ankles whenever I walked by, trying to trip me. When I yelled at them- they looked wounded and innocent, as if I had done something wrong.

While falling asleep tonight, I think I finally figured it out. I am the United States and my cats are the French.