It’s no secret that cats think everything is either all about or all for them. Remember that Cat Lassie video from a few years ago? The one where the boy was stuck under a fallen tree and sends the cat for help? Can you guess what happened? The entire day passed, and then we see the cat curled up, snoozing in his bed. Yeah, it’s funny, but it’s not far off the mark.
My friend once created a pictoral blog post about cats vs. dogs in an emergency, and it’s not only hysterical, it’s pretty darn accurate.
There’s all sorts of evidence, both real and spoofy, that supports the fact that cats are just a bunch of self-absorbed fuzzballs. Here are five ways my cats think it’s all about them.
My cats know their food is kept in the pantry. They’ve neglected to acknowledge — or even care — that some human food may also be stored behind that magical door. If the cats see me open the pantry, they go slightly ballistic and assume it’s feeding time. Again. No matter that they just emptied an entire bowl of food half an hour ago — they suddenly act like they’re going to die if they don’t come face-to-face with some sort of sustenance. And so I wade through the circling sharks to grab my granola bar and try not to make eye contact with them as I leave the room.
Cosmo loves nothing more than co-snuggling in bed. He particularly likes to curl up under the covers and spoon with me, which presents its own set of problems, mostly because I’m subject to bouts of insomnia, and when he moves, I awaken. But, really, he’s happy just sharing the space with me — even the foot of the bed is heavenly to him.
So, obviously, any time I sit on the bed, he thinks I must be hitting the hay and he gets pretty excited. If I happen to plop on the edge of the mattress to pull on a pair of socks, he immediately jumps up and begins circling the bed, tail straight up, audibly purring. Sometimes if he sees me head into the bedroom, he’ll race ahead and jump on the bed before I even get there. He obviously thinks I’m like him and can drop everything and nap. I want his job.
At our house, a UPS delivery is exciting for everyone. It usually means I have received some sort of goody I’d ordered online, and for my cats it means happygoodtimeboxland. I’ll have barely removed the packing tape (which Phoebe promptly starts chewing) and they’re right on top of me, ready to inspect the contents. The box then sits empty for .25 seconds — max — and then it’s full of cat. Same thing on grocery day. “You brought these bags for me? You’re the best! Wait a minute. Why are you putting those weird cans and boxes in my food pantry?”
I love lying next to my cats and talking sweetly to them. I tell them how gorgeous and smart they are and how they’re just the best kitties in the whole world. I also ask them how their day’s going and if they have any plans for the weekend. You know, typical conversations-with-cat. Sometimes when I start chatting, they’ll immediately lick their lips. It seems like they hear or see me, they automatically think “food.”
Me: “You look sweet enough to eat!”
Cat: “Did you just say ‘treat'”? [Lick, lick, lick.]
And I guarantee that even though they appear to be enjoying mama-kitty time, if they hear the pantry door opening, I’m rabbit-kicked to the curb.
In general, my cats think they’re way more important than anything I happen to be doing. When I’m sitting at my desk, they like to walk around and across my keyboard, inadvertently typing strange words into my Facebook status line.
Facebook status line: “What’s on your mind?”
Cat-type: “ksfhpir gh;ks ;sjf;asf”
And so my friends think I’m drinking during the middle of the day. Phoebe also enjoys clomping across my desk, her tail knocking over my knickknacks and banging my lampshade until the whole lamp topples on top of my tea and paperwork. And don’t even get me started on my futile attempts to fold laundry or make the bed.
In what ways do your cats let you know it’s all about them? Let me know in the comments!
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