My cat is an asshole. I expect this is true of all cats, but I don’t wish to cast aspersions on every feline. Perhaps, somewhere, whether presently or in some distant time in the past or future, there exists a cat who is not an asshole. Don’t laugh, it could be the case. Although, it is not the case with my cat.
I have said in the past that cats are the best argument against the theory of intelligent design. This usually causes some deluded cat lover to suggest that feline intelligence is far more advanced than that of humans. I don’t doubt this for a second. After all, Zoe (my cat) lounges around while Adele and I go to work to get money to feed her. When, as happens more or less daily, Zoe wanders around the apartment vomiting, Adele or I follow her around like servants, ready to clean up after her. But then again, in 17 years, she has yet to work out the mechanics of door handles. So, who can say?
I will say, though, that it is not the creature’s intelligence that I am putting at issue here, but that of its supposed creator. But then, perhaps God is a cat. It would explain a lot.
But leaving metaphysics aside, I maintain that, her potential divinity notwithstanding, my cat is an asshole.
In addition to daily, random barfing, Zoe has the annoying habit of thinking it’s perfectly okay to wake me and Adele up several times a night. In some cases, she merely wants attention. How rude it is of us to sleep at such moments! At other times, she will drag a loaf of bread from the counter, through the living room, and into our bedroom, and then attempt to eviscerate it with her back legs whilst meowing at the top of her lungs. Every night it is something different. In fact, it is two or three different things dragging us out of our bed, again and again, in the dark. Is there any better word than asshole to describe such behaviour?
All I know is, she is lucky she’s so cute. As I tell her repeatedly, stuffed cats don’t do these things.