Cat's don't care for your ego

Cats don't care. Not one iota, not in the smallest way do they think who we are is important. However important we think we are, none of it has any bearing on your cat. Your money, your degrees, your erudition...they're all for nought to a cat, for a cat has no use for such things.

It's a quality that un-nerves people. A staring cat sees straight through you, right through the carefully constructed face we present to the world, and right through your ego.

What is important to the cat is how well you live up to their requirements. Are we attentive when required? Are we hands-off when not required? Do we provide regular, tasty food? Do we drop everything when affection is the cat's priority? Do we provide a selection of warm, comfortable sleeping places? Do we play well when it's playtime?

You are nothing.

The cat is everything.

And don't forget it.

Invisible cat

Subtlety is the cat's strong suit. They never talk when they can hint, refrain from action when a look will do.

Miss T either wants the classifieds, or requires my attention.

Sensitive Paws

Like most cats, Miss T-Tail has very sensitive paws. Veeeery sensitive. There is no time when she's happy for me to touch them.

As you can see, they're funny wee things, because some of the pads are pink, and some are black. It seems the tortoiseshell random colour distribution also applies to her feet.

She has this most human-like quality, which is when she's very happy (such as when I'm scratching her belly) she extends and separates her toes.

So. Cute.

I'm unimpressed. I'm a cat.

No matter how rich you are, a cat will never be impressed.

Good looks or hotness are as nothing to your cat.

Drive a Ferrari? Nope, the cat doesn't care, except if the hood is warm and comfortable.

In short, the only way to impress a cat is to love her, no matter what she does.

Bringing you down to earth: that's the beauty of the cat.

Cats are family.

Look, I don't want to get too sentimental about this, but for lots of us, our pets are our family.

My two are as important to me as real children, although I understand that it's not quite the same as actually reproducing. It's a relative thing. (Ha ha.) As I don't have kids of my own, the furry ones assume the same position as my own crumb-crunchers would.

Is that tortured logic, or what? But I'm sure you get what I mean.

Moneypenny and T-Tail are VERY important to my mental health, too. For all these reasons, I take their well-being seriously. Sometimes I think I go overboard, but that's because they are domesticated and socialized, and they really do rely on me for everything. Food, water, healthcare, subscriptions to Cat-Nip (the weekly news magazine for felines) - it's all up to me.

Oh, and cleaning out the catbox, too. Even that I don't consider a chore. (Okay, I told you I was nuts.)

My cats are my family.

I am a cat nut.

Yep. I'm a total cat nut. Over the years I have tried to figure it out, and came up with the following ideas.

1. I am a reincarnated cat.

2. I am a reincarnated member of Egyptian royalty circa 5000 BC (and worship cats.)

3. There was a misallocation somewhere higher up, and I was supposed to be a cat.

4. I noticed as an infant that my mother treated the cats better than me, and wanted a part of it.

Joking aside, observing, pondering and currying favour with cats makes me feel good. Sometimes (when I'm being particlarly poetic) I think I can see God in cats because they are so perfectly adapted to their environment, so adept at thriving in an often cat-hostile world. In my opinion, cats show us how intelligent design and evolution work together - the two ideas so clearly complement each other (in cats) I don't know why others can't see it.

But enough of that: let's create a world - particularly a domestic world - that's as safe for our precious puss-cats as possible.

My Cats: The Story

I was living in Sydney, Australia, with my (then) girlfriend. Everything in my life was grand: I had the career of my dreams, a nice house in a great neighbourhood, my health, a future. But my job took me all over the world, which meant no pets. Being away for up to fourteen days at a time, it never seemed fair to leave them for that long, so I did without.

Until one Saturday morning, when I came home, and the ex said she had a surprise for me. It turned out to be two six-week old kittens she had saved from death row. One was white tortoise, the other was a silver tabby.

Giving her credit, she had been listening. When we went for walks, I was forever stopping for cats. I would pet them as long as they allowed, and generally ooh and ahh over whatever strange (and stray) moggy crossed our path. At one point I even said that the thing I wanted most in life was a pet cat.

So at least she was being considerate at that point of the relationship.

It's as clear as today, when the two furry ones jumped out of the box. They were so small, and as scared as anything. I had just had a shower, and was still in my robe, but the first thing the tortoiseshell did was to scamper up my leg and cuddle into my arms.

From that day on, my life was never the same.

What's on your dog or cat's paws?

I found her one day sniffing around under the sink. Moneypenny, my tabby housecat, was exploring as cats do, discovering new worlds by smell. That was fine, until I noticed she had knocked over a bottle of cleaner, creating a small spill. She wasn't drinking any of the liquid, but it got me thinking.

Looking at the label, I saw that floor cleaner is made of weird stuff I'd never heard of. Naturally, a warning not to ingest it was right there too, along with directions of what to do if you accidentally did.

Which is great unless you're a household pet and can't read, and don't know how to call the vet by yourself. Then matters are more tricky.

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Later that night, I was watching Moneypenny clean herself. She was licking her paws, being as thorough as always, when it hit me: cats and dogs ingest lots of stuff from the environment without knowing it. A lot goes into their mouths simply because whatever ends up on their paws or their coats is likely to end up in their mouths.

So I tossed away all my horrid toxic cleaners, and started again, with my pets in mind.