First of all, an observation about cats. They are fucking crazy. That being said, humans are even crazier because we take them in and love them and think we can change them and then continue to live with their douchebaggery even when trying to change them fails. Cats do what they want, when they want. They can jump to astonishing heights, are born with weapons attached their hands and feet, and they fit places they really shouldn’t be able to. They are born killing machines. Luckily, cats are also extremely lazy. They’d rather lick their butts than actually get up and do anything.
Jericho, the blonde one, is mischievous and eats off the stove every chance he gets, open flames be damned. Bellini, the tabby, well, he’s special. He talks to walls, chases his tail, and darts out of the room for no particular reason.
So, our cats, like many cats, bring us their nightly “kills” and leave them around the bed. Being indoor cats, these “kills” vary from stuffed mice to dog toys to kleenex. It’s a big production too. They don’t just leave it for you and go. They yowl at the top of their little kitty lungs from the point of the “kill” and continue yowling until they reach the spot they plan to drop the “kill”. Then they stand in place and make sure you know that they brought you that “kill” and once you make eye contact, they drop it and come over for their praise. And you better be ready to praise them or else they will get angry. I don’t know if this is normal for all cats, but for my two it is a nightly thing.
And I realized that it could be right. I mean, I do feel super special when Jericho brings me “kills” (after I’m done being annoyed by his loudass meowing). I always thought it was because he loved me. And when I say he loves me, I mean he’s a full blown momma’s boy.
Jericho will love on anyone who gives him attention, but I’m still his person of choice. So, I thought it was a token of his love. But maybe it really is because he’s afraid I’m going to starve. He picked me to be his favorite not because I’m loving and I care about him. No, he picked me because I am the scrawny hairless cat and clearly the other hairless cat (Josh who is 1ft and 200lbs more than me) is having no problem at finding food. I can’t jump, and he’s never seen me give myself a proper cat cleaning. He feels bad for me (which still may be too much credit of emotion for a cat, but still). I’m the sad wounded bird that fell from the nest and Jericho is wanting to nurse me back to health. This theory, even if it is from the internet, makes much more sense than a cat being loving. Cause like I said, cats are batshit crazy. They know like three emotions: hunger, annoyance, and apathy. And based on the fact that cats clearly think they are superior to everything else on the planet, the fact that he’s helping me, and not vice versa, makes so much sense.