My people find me impatient. They don't understand.
If you've ever watched a patch of sun move across the floor while waiting for your human to return home, you know what I mean.
If I were to be impatient with anything, it would be the hyperactive habits of my people. They're always moving, unable to focus. They leave the house way too often and for too long. Being a patient cat, I wait. I sleep and I wait. When a person finally returns, I'm well within my rights to raise my voice. Politely but firmly, I request lap time.
When your purr is charged and all you ask is that your person sit still, that's not impatience. It's called knowing what you want and going for it.
Of my two people, the worst offender is the one who doesn't sit on the couch immediately when she comes home. She moves things around while I wait. She changes clothes while I wait. She even makes a cup of coffee. In disbelief, I wait. I don't want things or clothes and certainly not the outside world. All I've ever wanted are my people's laps.
Neither of my people sit for long enough. They keep jumping up. As if I'm not firmly seated on one of them. As if I can just be relocated to a lonely cushion. But I forgive them. I can't fault them for an undiagnosed condition that causes such fitful behavior. For all I know, it's a couch allergy. What can I say? I love my people.
A reader named Jester the Cat recently queried me on how to "get my human to get off the couch once she has warmed it up for me without hurting her."
Jester, I lost an entire cat nap mulling over the concerns your question raises. Like, why do you want your human off the couch? And how could you hurt her? Are you a wild puma? Despite these worries, I want to trust you and give you some advice.
If you're trying to get your person off the couch, you're missing the point. Every moment your person spends on the couch or in bed is a moment not to waste. Quickly, jump up there and hold your person down. Sit on his chest if you must. Now! This is the beginning of a whole new lifestyle for you.
My people had become complacent. It was up to me to remind them of their true purpose in life: lavishing me with adoration. But I went too far. Listen up, all you cats with supernatural abilities to control human minds. Use your purrsuasive techniques with caution.
A little vomit will get their attention, no problem. Feigning more than the customary 100 hours of sleep per day is an easy but effective way to get extra cuddles. But withholding the purr can land you in an urgent care facility. I'm talking thermometers, needles, and all manner of invasive tests. Whatever you do, keep purring.
Being unable to purr themselves, humans attribute all sorts of magical qualities to the purr. Should you go so far as to stop producing this hypnotic rumble, they will freak out. Believe me, seeing your proud human reduced to a shaky, emotional wreck is the worst kind of embarrassing. It's just not worth it. Take it from a cat who knows.
You've been warned.
About Me (and my cats)
In January, 2018, my sassy tortoiseshell cat Oliva hijacked my blog. Padron, my easygoing tabby cat, soon followed her example. I did nothing to stop them because I thought they had some pretty interesting things to say. In April, Oliva died. To say we miss her is a pathetic understatement. She was sweet and bossy and unforgettable. And while I'll allow Padron to continue blogging from time to time, I think he needs to share this space with me. It's my blog, after all. Stay tuned for posts from me, the human running this site.