My cat is the laziest thing I’ve ever seen. Her days consist of eating and sleeping, and her nights consist of, well, the same.
It must be nice being a cat. Specifically, it must be nice being a domestic cat, one who has been tamed and house-trained and has generally lost all sense of how to survive in the wild (see: scaredy-cat). For Felix, her biggest fear is getting to her food bowl and finding it empty, or worrying I won’t come home from a weekend away and she will starve (which I think is impossible, as she weighs about 100 pounds, give or take). While I worry about paying bills and where to go to grad school, she worries about whether or not she’ll fit through the cat door to get out onto the balcony (her favorite place to stretch out and nap). When I have to drag my ass out of bed in the morning for work, begrudgingly forcing myself from my haven of pillows and blankets, she’s busy fleeing from one sleeping spot to another, settling back down for another ten-hour nap. I go to yoga and she goes to sleep. I try and clean up the apartment and she poops on the floor. I run errands and she goes back to sleep. I try and cut back on snacks and she eats more everyday. I go to work and she goes to sleep again. You can see she has it so tough.
Like most cats, Felix is moody. She likes to be petted and cuddled on her terms, and don’t even think about picking her up. As I’ve had her for almost nine years, I’ve learned the ways of pleasing her- and pleasing myself (I love animals and dream of nothing more than snuggling up next to them)- but for others, she can come across as bitchy and mean. And she definitely can be. But more than anything, she is simply neurotic. She will randomly run around as if chasing something, or being chased, or she will jerk sporadically while in a state of relaxation, as if spooked by some invisible monster. In some ways, her personality mirrors mine. But unlike me, her erratic behavior is entertaining and sometimes endearing, and people seem to love her more because of it. She can get away with it because she’s a cat. In some ways I envy her. Her day-to-day seems boring at times, but I’ve never been able to sleep that much and not feel like crap. At times when the stress of life can get overwhelming, I look over at Felix, asleep on the couch (or the table, or the floor, or all over my stuff) and curse her for having it so easy.
Although, I think I would get tired of eating the same kibble day after day.