I can understand that cats identify with smell, which SUPPOSEDLY accounts for why they smoosh their heads into our faces, legs, arms, etc. (although I maintain that MY kitties do it simply because they love me, even though that completely goes against my undying trust in science).
This does not account for why the mere opening of the front door to greet a human that they do not encounter on a regular basis sends my boys into panicked blurs of fur, not to be seen again until several hours after the offending “alien” has left.
Judging from my own experiences at fellow cat-owners’ homes, I’m not alone. I’m also not UN-alone, because some people have cats do not run like their tails are on fire when I walk in. This is not to say that I am necessarily ACCEPTED by these cats; my friend’s cat, whom I have known since kittenhood, will meow at me like I’m killing him and swat at me (but also still allow me to pet as he wishes).
In my mind, aside from smell, I feel like we all look the same to cats. They don’t have great eyesight and they have pea brains. We should all be equal until they’re close enough to sniff.
Furthermore, no stranger has ever done anything to my cats for them to have emotional damage from (well, Moosh maybe, but oddly enough, he’s the more friendly of the two). Since all humans have EVER done to them is feed them and love them, WHY DO THEY ACT LIKE ANYONE NEW IS GOING TO KILL THEM?
Even-further-more, why am I even remotely attempting to understand my cats? These are the same assholes that will sleep in the exact same place every day and then one day, randomly decide to to change it up and sleep in a place that is so impossible for me to find that I may or may not be convinced that they got out somehow and spend an hour panicking and retracing my steps.
It’s really just like arguing with a stupid person. I should stop.
I LOVE longer days. I don’t mind driving to work in the darkness, and I don’t even mind when a half an hour into work at 7am, the power goes out and it’s completely dark (well, except for the emergency floodlights). I DID kind of mind the power going out, because I was only a half hour into an 8-hour day of 16 hours of work. Yeah, don’t try to do the math on that, because it will never add up. But anyway, it came back on in like, 5 minutes.
I’m not a night person. I’m a morning person. By morning, I mean 8am or so, I’m not like, up at the crack of dawn. Except when I have to for work or because the cats are a-holes. So I love when the sun doesn’t go down until 8 or so. It’s Florida, what can I say?
Of course, losing an hour means that this past Monday was sucky. Because as much as you mean to go to bed earlier the night before, your clock is still off. As for the kitties, my alarm was even too early for THEM. Taco was asleep on my feet and refused to get up. Every time I attempted to force myself out of bed and rustle him off, he’d just lay back down on me wherever I rustled him and adjust back to sleepytime. This does not help one wake up. Meowing in my face helps me wake up. Not furballs draped over me, being so comfortable when I have to get up and all I really want to do is be a sleeping, comfortable furball too. Even the nighttime feedings are off. They’re usually up my ass at 7pm to get food to stuff in their fat mouths.
I couldn’t even get Moosh off the cat tree for food, so Taco ate it ALL. This resulted in Moosh being STARVED and sad looking in front of his food bowl at 8. I’m pretty sure this is an act. No cat looks that pathetic that’s as well-fed (except for Taco stealing food) and well-loved as dear Moosh Moosh looks when he’s decided he wants to be hungry and sits in front of the food bowl. It’s positively sad.
Of course, now they’re making a liar out of me because since I’ve started this post, they both woke up and started swarming around me. Guess their schedules are more easily adjusted than mine. I’m not feeding them yet. Brats.
Yeah. So I’m lazy. Again. I DID manage to take my lazy ass to the mall today (I hate the mall) to spend christmas gift cards. I even bought a sensible dress for work. It’s leopard print, so I suppose it’s not TOO sensible, but nevertheless, sensible for me. The rest of my day has consisted of taking pictures of cats. I thought I’d share.
It’s afternoon, so it’s kitty sleepy time. Taco was asleep in the computer chair, while Moosh was in his makeshift cat bed that wasn’t supposed to be a cat bed but converted to one once I realized that he was going to continue to use it as a cat bed whether I liked it or not.
The boyfriend wanted to sit in the computer chair occupied by sleeping Taco, so he picked him up without disturbing his position and placed him right on top of sleeping Moosh.
The afternoon sleepy is the sleepiest of all. They were both too sleepy to protest. I was surprised that neither of them moved, and even more surprised when they STILL didn’t move while I got my phone and snapped some pictures.
After about 10 minutes of this, Moosh had enough, stood up, which annoyed Taco, and moved to the box next to the bed. Taco, being annoyed, grabbed on to his back leg and tried to swipe him but both were really too tired to pursue anything more and resumed sleeping. Which they’re still doing. I wish I slept that well.
Am I the only person obsessed with my sleeping cats? I must have more pictures of snoring kitties than Vegas has hookers. They’re just SO FREAKING ADORABLE when they’re sleeping (the cats, not the hookers), and just like a snowflake, I swear they never sleep the exact same way twice. There is always ONE cute little tiny change, which is why I feel the urge to snap yet another picture. Taco often sleeps sprawled as if the floor is going to move out from under him. Moosh will sleep with his fat gut in the air like a doofus. These are just my two favorite poses, but oh-em-gee there are so many others. And the rare moments when I actually catch them sleeping together, that will simply make my day. Even if they are merely sleeping in close proximity to each other, I feel as if I’ve been awarded some magical gift.
And don’t even get me started about kittens. They fall asleep in the middle of things, and it’s so adorable I could die.
Of course, the poses never last long, because I have to pet them and coo. But THEN they do even CUTER stretchy things and I coo some more. My absolute favorite is what I call the “backwards stretch,” where they curl their paws in and do some sort of opposite stretch thing. I think that I’ve attempted something similar but it’s not nearly as fun to watch and I usually end up giving myself a Charley Horse in my calf.
Here’s where I get a little strange. If the cats have been inactive for a certain amount of time, I feel this compulsion to find them at least once an hour and wake them up. Do human mothers do this? Is this engrained? I can’t help myself. It’s not like I really think they’re dead. I just need to poke them and make sure every so often. Then I get to see them do the stretchy thing. Bonus!
I think it’s entirely possible that I’m just jealous that they look so comfortable. My bed is pretty damn comfortable, but I have never felt as happy or serene as they look in even the most awkward of positions.