Sorry I didn’t post last week. I was on my honeymoon. It consisted of sitting around the house playing video games with my husband, but still. To make up for that, I’m going to post a couple blog entries today.
Currently, my husband and I share our lives with four animals–two Persians, one DSH, and a Blue Heeler. All four of them have become quite accustomed to a certain morning routine and act accordingly. At about nine or ten in the morning–if we’re lucky–the animals let us know that it is time to be fed and, in the case of my Blue Heeler, be let out of the crate. The DSH and one of the Persians start meowing and begging for food and the Heeler starts whining. When that starts, someone usually gets out of bed to silence the animals…that someone is usually me.
My husband can sleep through begging animals, but I can’t. As soon as the animals are awake so am I. I’m always grateful to them when they allow me to sleep in a little bit longer.
On a similar subject, I remember when I was a child and I begged my parents for a cat (I had several dogs). I loved cats. We had an opportunity to get a cat, but my dad wouldn’t let us take him. Finally, when I was about fourteen or fifteen my mother and I got two cats. I quickly learned that the
ownership of cats our willingness to allow ourselves to be enslaved by cats is overrated.
Don’t get me wrong, I like cats, but I don’t have a preference for indoor cats. I have the ability to detect even the faintest litterbox odor–an ability that I’m not happy with. Okay, so the biggest thing I have against indoor cats is the litterbox. I hate cleaning litterboxes and I always look for an easier way of cleaning them.
After being a slave of at least seven cats over the past twelve years, I’ve made a few observations–or perhaps these are my personal opinions. Cats are not lower maintenance than dogs. If you’re a properly trained cat slave, your cat has a set schedule that you’re to operate by and if you deviate from the schedule there are consequences (i.e. poop in your shoes, knocked over things, etc). Also, cats jump on everything. Just the other night, one of our masters jumped up on the TV cabinet and knocked things off. She also got behind the TV cabinet and messed with the wires. She also likes to sit on the arm of the couch blocking our view of the TV; usually at critical gaming moments (we now have a stick that we gently coax our master off the couch with).
The funny thing about cats is they’re perfectly trainable. I know a dog trainer who trained a cat to do tricks on command. They’re willing to learn, but most people don’t have the patience to teach them. They just adopt the philosophy that many of us slaves adopt “cats will be cats and we can’t do anything about that.” But I believe we can. So, with that being said, when my husband decides to bring home a kitten–and he’s been talking about it–I’m going to teach my master some new tricks…maybe…possibly…and then I’ll give up and say “a cat is a cat and I can’t do anything about that.”