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Why I Don’t Understand Cat-Owners

January 26, 2011

Recently we had a substitute teacher in our class. This is the same one that substituted a few months back, and I remember her because I was suffering from the equivalent of being bonked upside the head with a plastic mallet, only in flu form, and she told me that she’s so germaphobic she won’t even touch her cats when she gets home until she takes a shower first. I remember it mainly because the idea of the world being full of BIG BAD GERMS is ridiculously ridiculous and also because I thought she was being ridiculously considerate to cats. People who are obsessed with cats mystify me. What is it about these contemptuous feline quadrupedal fur-balls that makes perfectly sane people throw their sane-ness out a window? (that is incidentally, where it makes me want to throw the cat, just to see their reaction. Look, it’ll survive. They’re tough little bastards.)

Anyways, what I really find irritating is people who show no qualms about tucking into a hearty meal of bacon and chicken nuggets and yet go all huffy when other cultures eat dogs or cats or hamsters or whatever. Hey, at the very least, they don’t judge an animal’s eatability from their “cuteness”, or lack thereof. Can you imagine back in the old days when people were experimenting with eating random things around them, forming a cavemen judge panel to decide which ones to slaughter? Sort of like American Idol or whatever similar reality show that young people today who are are hiptrendy then me find cool. Do they have a very caustic Celtic critic (try saying that out loud) on to make sardonic comments and put animals down?

Look, people – they’re cats. They have the brains of a brainless four year old. Yes, I know – they have large eyes and pink noses and delicate whiskers and are generally very aesthetically pleasing and cuddly and soft, but can we stop the baby talk and the dressing them up bit? Cats don’t like that. If we’re going to domesticate a bunch of animals, can we at least do it in a way that vaguely respects their status as a non-human? If I was supreme ruler of Earth, cats and dogs would be referred to as Cat, or as Dog. That’s what they are. Let’s call them that. Or at least if you’re going to name them, don’t give them birthdays. THEY’RE CATS. AND DOGS. AND MAYBE GERBILS. They don’t have birthdays. They’ve never even heard of birthdays. They probably won’t even understand birthdays, if you set one down and started lecturing at it. Why is it fun to celebrate the annual reminder of your own mortality? watching as another year pas on this bleak grey planet, dragging on day after day in face if our cruel indifferent universe,and yet only to hurtle inevitably towards the pitiless black abyss of Death and his twilight kingdom?

I dunno.

Images (from left to right): Victorian girl with cat, Knee-highs and bonnet girl, Cat, Girl with Cat

“Statisticians estimate that there is no moment during the day when one or more young artists somewhere on the face of the globe are not painting pictures of children holding cats. ”
– The Man Upstairs by P.G Wodehouse

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