What is your favourite restaurant?
Sometimes I feel that cats see us as no more than glorified restaurants. Except that, if we humans treated restaurant staff the way cats treat us, we would be booted out and told never to come back.
Cats don’t tell us what it is that they want to eat. Or, rather, they communicate it via their Creepy Kitty Sixth Sense language, which they know we don’t understand. We then go through the rigmarole of trying food after food to see if something meets their exacting requirements, only to be repeatedly told to try harder.
Once we happen upon the magic formula which gains their approval, unfortunately that doesn’t mean we are safe. The cats may well comply for a short while, but this is all a huge façade; in reality, they are just waiting to drop the axe onto us when we least expect or want it. Usually this is when we have decided to invest in a bumper supply of said food on some non-refundable deal.
Everyone: “Oh, they’ll eat it when they’re hungry enough.” No, no, no. People who say this have clearly never met a cat. Cats will never do this. They would rather starve than eat substandard* food.
*Substandard, to them, is anything that they don’t fancy eating at that moment, even if they loved it yesterday.
Perhaps most restaurant servers would put up with the odd difficult customer if the price were right. However, cats don’t tip. In fact, they don’t even pay; to add insult to injury, not only do we put up with their outlandish demands but we pay handsomely for the privilege, too. Again, if our human friends did this to us, we would look for new friends. But, somehow, if a freeloading furry psychopath does it, we accept it. Are we humans just pathetic? Or is this the most extreme type of mind control there is?
Here is Louis Catorze, waiting patiently for service. In this case, what he wants is for us to fill his “empty” bowl, although I daren’t tell him it’s not empty; after all, the customer is always right.