Day 93: I Refuse To Think Like A Cat

When in doubt, I use Dog Logic. It is very simple: you look at the evidence before you, and go for the most obvious answer. (He chucked me = he does not want me to be his girlfriend; I am hungry = I will eat; I am not hungry = I will not eat. That sort of thing.)

But Cat Logic is different. When cats get together of an evening, they do not talk about the weather, or what kind of catfood they like best. They plot endlessly and without cease; they exchange nasty little ruses ("If we get the mouse, how can we torture him?"); they offer each other tips on how to say one thing convincingly while they mean another altogether; they practice their "I'm innocent" faces on each other. Whereas dogs admire in other dogs an ability to chase sticks fast and take up the most room in the dogbasket by the fire, cats admire other cats for their inscrutability and ability to utterly confound anyone who comes in their path. They are mean, and they are contrary.

In summary, cat logic will lead you to over-analyse the problem to hand to the point of insanity, make a squeaking fuss, and remain inscrutable so no-one knows what you are really feeling. That way, you will be sure to tie yourself in knots and render yourself miserable. Cats are cats, so they don't care; but humans shouldn't think like cats. It will make them mad.

Here's how it works.

I am hungry

I will whine and whine and whine and whine and wind myself round your legs until you pay me attention, whether I want it or not.

I am comfortable in your lap.

I will dig my claws in hard, knead you in all the places it hurts the most, then leap off you leaving your lap covered in cat hair.

I love you.

I will bite you hard. It's a sign of affection. If I draw blood, it means I love you even more.

You are allergic to me and do not want me anywhere near you.

I will follow you around interminably and without cease, rub myself on you (sending up clouds of cat allergens), and somehow find my way into your bedroom and into your bed until you throw me out of the door with your eyes streaming.

I am ill.

I will go very quiet and sulky until you realise I may possibly be dying, at which point you will spend £500 taking me to a private veterinary hospital in Wimbledon.

I am going out.

If I find someone who gives me nicer food and has a warmer spot by the radiator, I will leave home and forget you ever existed.

You like me.

I will ignore you.

The fish is no longer in the fishbowl, and a fish tail is hanging out of my mouth.

It wasn't me.

I am thirsty.

I want fresh running water. In fact, leave the bath dripping at the pace I like all day, otherwise I will die of dehydration, and it will be your fault, and you will feel guilty.

You have a new sofa.

I will shred it with my claws in the most obvious place, not round the back where no-one will see it.

You have bought me a new cat bed at great expense from the deaf Scottish woman in Streatham.

I will spurn it, even though it is by the radiator and sit, with my black fur, on your white linen chair. Then I will sit in all the places you don't want me to sit, including the leather armchair which cannot be restored once I have scratched it.

You have emptied my cat litter tray, bleached it and re-filled it, as you do every couple of days.

I will get in it, shit on the floor, then kick up piles of cat litter all over the wooden floorboards.

You have done some washing and folded it neatly on the bed.

I will sit on it. And yawn.

You have visitors.

I will be unspeakably sweet and amenable. When the front door closes on the last guest, I will scoot at speed onto the leather chair, and massage it with my claws.

I want your attention.

Now I have it I will wander off, flicking my tail.

If you are looking for love, look for dog-like people. You may sometimes think they're a bit predictable. You may find it a bit weird when they look at you with love in their eyes. You may feel confused when they put their head on your shoulder and sigh. You may get annoyed when they sleep in the afternoon after lunch in front of the fire. You may become bored by the fact that they always mean what they say (and say what they mean), come home when they say they will, and behave straightforwardly and with loyalty, but on the whole you will know where you stand and if you love them, they will probably quite like it.

Cat-like people will say one thing and mean another, and be unpredictable, and confuse you. They may seem mysterious and exciting; you may be stirred by the fact that they're unpredictable, and that you never quite know whether they like you or not. But you are on a hide into nothing, for as we all know, cats are mad, and the nicer you are to them, the meaner they'll be.*

(If you want to know if someone is a dog or a cat, throw a stick and see what happens.)



* Some cats are like dogs. Cats like that are fucking brilliant, but invariably completely insane. They are affectionate and not needy and jump on high things and sit on your head. Sometimes they will put their head in your mouth when you are sleeping. Not good, but highly entertaining. However, this type of animal is quite confusing and very rare, so probably best avoided.