Should I get a cat?
Would a cat get me?
I’m not sure. I’ve met some complicated ones. I wish them all the best and I think the spunk adds to the experience. But, yeah… I’ve met some complicated ones.
I wanna be clear: This isn’t a “cat-hater” situation– it’s the exact opposite. I quite enjoy cats. In fact, most people consider me a “cat” sort of person. And I take that as a compliment! But for some reason I struggle in my relationships with literal cats.
There’s no better surprise than visiting a friend and discovering their secret lil buddy– tucked away behind a couch, or peering from over the stairs. I love receiving updates about what Fluffy Jenkins had for dinner. Every time I visit a cat, I want one for myself. But the feeling is not mutual. Most cats look at me and seem uninterested– like I don’t bring stimulating conversation to the table.
It’s not like I don’t try! I think the first hangout would be fun— lots of pets, compliments, maybe a lil house tour, etc. But eventually, the sun would set and the cat would start lookin at me funny, like:
“Why are you still here?”
And I would have to hide my tears. I would shuffle around for a bit– looking for newspapers or cups or whatever cats like to play with, but I would be too nervous to find anything.
“I’m, like, going to be your, like, guardian,”
I would explain, but that type of thing doesn’t work on cats. You have to show them your leadership, not tell them about it. You have to prove it to them (so I’ve heard). Most cat parents I know have faced a Trial. They’ve done a dance, or cooked a gourmet meal, or taken an exam and scored perfectly. You’re supposed to put on a show of your talents— flaunt your dominance amongst humans to win your cat’s respect (I think). I don’t know if I have enough time for test prep or choreography.
I’ve heard they’ll ask you to redecorate. And if your vision is uninspiring, they’ll growl every time they pass you by. Most cats would gawk at my mood board and I would lose sleep over it. I welcome criticism! I would appreciate the conversation. I just don’t know if I’m ready to add a cat to my panel of judges.
They’re all-seeing. I don’t think I could lie about my workout routine the way I could to most people. That cat probably sat right by the window and watched my every lap. Probably timed me too. Probably gonna confront me about my lack of improvement.
When I come home from work, I wouldn’t even know where to look. Are you under the fridge? Are you buried in the sofa? Are you in the closet? Are you in this dimension? It’s a power play! And don’t say “You’re being overdramatic– most cats will come say hi at some point or another,” because you haven’t seen cats around me. My cat wouldn’t.
Having a cat is having a companion who pushes you. You fill their little cat bowl and they fill you with so much wisdom in one glance. They’re the type of friend who can’t sit idly by while you make mistakes. They push you to be better. They’ll give you a snuggle when you’re down, but ultimately they want to see you thrive. They love you, but it’s definitely possible to disappoint them. It’s like having an intrusive roommate.
It *could* work (me and a cat). But we’d need to be on the same team. And right now, I don’t know if I’m ready.
We’d butt heads. We’d fight over food and space. And the cat would win and it would genuinely cause me to spiral. I think “Alpha” is more of dog thing, but if I had a cat, the cat would be “Alpha.” It’d be cute, but I’d feel insecure. Someday I’ll welcome one into my life. I hope.
Alpha’s a good cat-name