1. It’s not my fault you devoured your second — and LAST! — helping of food for the day. Your eating really is happening at an alarming rate lately. If I didn’t love you I wouldn’t feel comfortable saying this, but you’re like a diet freak who’s only eaten brown rice and steamed vegetables for dinner for eight years and just been told they took all the calories out of calories. Do you know how hard it is to have a cat people think is “fat”? Do you know how many times I’ve used the, “She’s not fat, she’s just big-fured” line in your defense? And I believe it so don’t make me change my mind.
2. Because that’s SUPPOSED to be my new MAGAZINE bin. For MAGAZINES. It’s not a CAT bin — I didn’t go to the Container Store and spend eight hours combing bulletin board aisles trying to find the perfect receptacle for my cat, who has never slept in any bed I’ve ever bought for her in the seven years we’ve been roommates. I know this magazine bin is dark and enticing and seems like just the vessel to make you look really cute and help you “get away from it all,” but you have to get out of it because I don’t subscribe to paper magazines so that they can die in a fur-lined overpriced fake leather basket.
3. I let you sit on the bed all the time. Almost whenever you want to sit on the bed, you get to sit on the bed. As a sensible human who has decided of her own free will to be owned by a cat, I have stopped trying to keep you from doing 80 percent of the things you want to do, furring up my bed or attacking my boyfriend’s feet included. However, we won’t have nearly as comfy a bed to sleep on if every time I try to put the sheets on post-laundry you come and police the chore as though the sheet is our beloved bed’s worst enemy — a thing that must be stopped with the agile too-sharp claws of a house cat that’s never scratched real bark! Leave the outdoor cat fantasies to the pink feather that hangs off the plastic stick, kk?
4. The only time I get up at 4 a.m. and do something more than go to the bathroom is when I have to go to the airport or drink water because I got drunk at happy hour and passed out early in my shoes. All other days you can expect me NOT to prioritize your feeding over my last few precious hours of sleep, especially on the weekends okay?? Because OMIGOD 4 A.M. IS THE WORST HOUR OF THE DAY FOR YOU TO BE ANNOYING. And by the way, when I do pass out wearing all my clothes and my winter coat, why don’t you raise hell THEN so that I can have a proper non-post-collegiate sort of sleep in my bed bed? Where are you at then, huh?
5. You see, cats eat on the ground. That’s one unique feature about being a You: every meal is like a picnic. But for humans, it’s different. Our meals tend not to consist entirely of no-cook food pre-prepared and packaged in a big yellow sack that can be scooped and devoured dry. They tend to require some preparation, pairing with other foods and seasonings, slicing and dicing, wrapping and unwrapping. For this we have counters. No no, not cat shelves — counters. And once we’ve finished organizing our food into things we call meals we tend to transport the food from the counter to the table where we will enjoy said dish. Part of enjoying food — and as one whose tongue is the shower, I wouldn’t expect you to understand this — is consuming it without the presence of stray cat hair on the surface beneath the plate off which we eat. This is why cats don’t make humans happy when they sit on counters and dining tables. And as a big-fured cat — one who is of big and luscious and long and easily detaching fur! — it’s even less desirable to find fur hairs that have grown on you littered over surfaces that were intended to support food. And yes, I realize that when you’re as fabulous as you are, you can’t help but reminding me of it.