Do you live with a pet? Great! Me too.
(Because: You don’t own your pets. If anything, they own you. At the very least, you are passive aggressive roommates who cuddle sometimes if you’re lucky.)
I live with a cat whom I adopted from the Humane Society of New York in the fall of 2013. Her name is Brioche — a French-y name for a cat with a mustache. She just turned two years old this past April, and she’s finally growing out of her “kitten” phase. If you’ve been around cats, you know exactly which phase I’m talking about.
When she was much younger, she would easily chew through my laptop’s charger on a regular basis. (In her defense, the cord does look EXACTLY like string, which is every cat’s favorite toy.) She would claw keys off my laptop. (In her defense, they made noise and kind of sound like a toy anyways.) She would knock over literally any cup or glass left unattended on a table. (She still tries this, but I have much quicker reflexes now so it’s not as much of a problem these days.)
I’d like to point out some of the more major differences between humans and cats, if you don’t mind. These differences are, essentially, why I’m jealous of my cat. That’s right. I’ll be the first to admit something we might be afraid to reveal: We’re all jealous of our pets.
Responsibility. Remember all those cords she ruined? Guess who has two opposable thumbs and had to pay for the replacement chargers? THIS GIRL. Living with cats might be a bit different from living with dogs, in this respect. There is probably a way to train a dog to no longer exhibit bad behavior like that; with cats, you’re just lucky if they want to share the same couch as you. Their presence is a gift for your life, and we’re supposed to be thankful for it. There is, essentially, no way to teach them not to do something. It means they can get away with murder.
No, not actual murder. At least, not that I’m aware of…
Relaxation. Um, cats are literally designed to sleep most of the day. I have trouble sleeping in and relaxing on weekends because I’m pretty sure if I’m left alone with my thoughts for too long, my head will spontaneously combust. Cats, on the other hand, only have to do cat stuff all day.
I’ve personally defined “cat stuff” as follows: patrolling the windows for any birds and/or potential intruders; testing out the different sleeping spots in the house for durability and comfort; grazing out of food bowls; pretending some of their toys are alive but also deserve to no longer be alive.
Heartbreak. Do cats feel heartbreak? I think not. Cats don’t have to worry about relationships with other cats. Cats don’t have to put up with petty BS like wondering if someone will text them back or seeing that nobody came to their improv show or being stood up on a date or dealing with a breakup. All cats have to worry about is how fast we’re able to fill up their food bowls, or if someone knocks at the door, or if the vacuum cleaner makes an appearance.
Expenses. In the circle of life, we provide for our cats. Once they became domesticated, however many thousands of years ago, they no longer had to rely on their wild and hunting instincts to survive. All they had to do from then on was be as cute as possible in order to gain favor from us. How can we say no to those little fuzzy faces? It’s simply up to us to take care of them and make sure they’re happy and healthy. Which means we must be on-the-ball enough to financially support them. Basically, cats are adorable little freeloaders who don’t even realize the sweet deal they’ve got going on. I’ve purchased many a cat bed to no avail; the princess will sleep where she pleases, and that’s never on the things I buy for her. So perhaps we spoil our buddies too much or too often, and perhaps that’s because we’re trying to convince them to love us as we love them. But…
Unconditional Love. Cats have the ability to love so wholly that I can’t even comprehend it. It doesn’t make any sense! They let us imprison them and feed them food that probably isn’t the healthiest, no matter how hard we try. We brush them and pet them and play with them, and they treat us with barely hidden disdain. Until the guard around their fuzzy heart is broken down for just a few moments and they sit with us on the couch, or visit us in bed at night, and show us how much they appreciate all we do for them. Humans, on the flip side of this, have to constantly work to feel recognized or appreciated or loved; it’s tough not knowing exactly how you stand with people. (This excludes parents, but even those relationships can be trying.)
This cat, this little beast, lives a carefree life because I strive to provide that for her. Adopting an animal is one of the best decisions I ever made. I get to watch her grow up into her adulthood and develop her own very unique personality. She has nary a care in the world, and for that I am jealous. For that, too, I think we’re all jealous of our pets. They’re perfect hellish angels who get to live as they please.
So Brioche, if you’re reading this, don’t use this information against me in some kind of high stakes blackmail scheme for more treats. It ain’t gonna work. (It will absolutely work.)
