This morning, I awoke to the sight of my cat hovering over me. As a person who is strongly against cats, this is not a welcome view. On my list of things I would prefer not to wake up to, there are serial killers, then predatory animals, followed by a cat shedding onto my face. I grunted, assuming he got the message loud and clear because only seconds later he was gone.
Instead, he had taken his leave to go stand in front of the bathroom sink. I politely nudged him out of the way and began to brush my teeth. He made his way behind me, camping out in front of the shower. I spat and began the whole routine again as I attempted to bathe before work.
What is this cat’s problem? I had wondered this several times, even asking him directly.
“Hey, what is your problem?” I would ask. He would look at me, confused. Then he would lie down directly on the stairs, clearly trying to cause me to fall to my death as I tried to get to my home’s lower level. And, even after I recovered from my near death experience, he still would not tell me what his problem was. That is just blatant disrespect.
We have had our disagreements in the past. I have wanted to use my laptop. He thought it would be better if he lay directly on top of it. During meal time, I have tried to eat my food. He has tried to lie directly on top of it. Putting on my shoes, getting a jacket, wanting to use the toilet, all foiled by his laying. Apparently he does not understand how much more comfortable lying on a couch would be.
I have tried everything, from petting him to saying nice things. By saying nice things, I of course mean not calling him names and cursing his very existence. Point is, I have tried. I have not set idly by and allowed our relationship to carry on. This, of course, goes unnoticed by the cat.
Maybe it’s because he feels more entitled.
I read an article about the cat of Karl Lagerfeld, renowned fashion designer who is known for many things, all the way from designing shirts to designing pants. Lagerfeld and I have a lot in common. Actually, really only two things. We both wear clothing on a regular basis and we both have cats.
Where our lives differ, though, is the treatment of our cats. Lagerfeld has given his cat only the best. His feline companion dines with him at the table. Not under the table, mind you, but AT the table. That means if you were to go to one of Karl’s renowned dinner parties, you would be eating your Cornish game hen next to a white Siamese.
This cat does not spend all day alone in a small Kansas City town-home. Instead, he is pampered by TWO maids specifically hired to care for his cat. For those keeping score at home, Lagerfeld’s cat has exactly twice as many maids as I have, even more if I follow my wife’s insistence that she is, indeed, not a maid.
Moreover, one of these maids is responsible for Choupette’s (This is the most appropriate name for a white Siamese ever) diary, writing down every activity the cat partakes in. If it is anything like my cat, it would read like this:
9:00 a.m.: Laid in an inappropriate place
10:45 a.m.: Moved to a new inappropriate place
11:18 a.m.: Pooped in a box, then did not properly clean his butt
12:53 p.m.: Drank all of the dog’s water even though there is a dish specifically for the cat
1:12 p.m.: Coughed up a hairball, then laid in an inappropriate place
No doubt, Lagerfeld reads this every night, far too excited to see what the cat did. “Oh, he laid ON TOP of the TV? How fascinating! What a little kitten genius!”
If I were to give my cat all of these things, maybe he would leave me alone and allow me to live my life. We could get along and become the best of friends. Of course, I do not allow animals at my table, nor do I have the money to hire multiple keepers for an animal whose sole contribution to my home is coughing up a strangely colored ball of hair and mucus for us to marvel at.
Lagerfeld may be on to something. More likely, though, he has never been around a dog. If he had, he would realize what a stuck-up snob his cat is. All dogs want is the last bite of a sandwich and an occasional pat.
They definitely do not need a maid.