Nothing good ever comes of violence.

~ Martin Luther ~

Show Your Cat Who Is In Charge

October 20th, 2013 ~ Est. reading time: 1 min, 40 secs

Who is really in charge?

Who is really in charge?

If there’s any confusion about the matter, tell your pet that they need to obey you.  I certainly do and in the belief that it keeps our household of three furry felines cooperative and under control.

And they do seem to know I’m the one they need to seek. When they want to go out they always come to me and start meowing until I get up and open the door. That shows them.

Then, when they want to come in two minutes later and recheck the food bowl status, who do they look at through the window with that, “Please help me” look? Yep. Me.

If the bowl isn’t full or there’s something amiss, they insist on something different. That means I need to get up and give them what they want to start them carrying on. Because cats don’t comprehend deferred gratification. Besides, they know to harass the balding guy with glasses because isn’t that his job?

Oh yes, our cats know only too well. I am the one.

They know because they often tell me so. By scratching on the back of the couch when there’s a perfectly good choice of two scratch posts in the vicinity they like to try me out. Which is what I do as I give them a fierce flash of bottom teeth and yell, “Scallywag, Earwig! Honeybeast! Stop scratching!”

My leadership in the feline hierarchy I admit is really symbolic. For, in truth, I am the cats’ lackey. They expect me to be their human valet and insist that, at the very least, I should provide all the pats necessary for domesticated bliss.

At times leadership is a lonely road. So it’s a comforting thing that even though they boss me around terribly, they still have time to give me an affectionate nuzzle. Cats may at times be economical with their affections. But they are always genuine and gladly respond to a pat, scratch, and a gentle chat.

Which means that in reality I’m more of a benevolent friend than a dominating male. They know of course and happily exploit my attentions. But like them, I freely admit it’s all part of pet ownership – a contract we enter into – and I don’t mind in the least.

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