Among friends and family, my antipathy for cats is well-known.

Let me put it succinctly:  Cats are worthless.

This isn’t just an opinion. It’s a scientific fact. They don’t greet you at the door, they don’t guard the house, they leave their hair everywhere, they climb onto countertops and tables and other areas associated with food preparation, they shit inside your house but you have to clean it up, they’re picky and demanding about their food, they make you itch and sneeze, and they leave your home smelling like cat and internal cat fluid. I didn’t like Jonathan Franzen’s new novel, except for one section:  the section where bird-lover Walt goes on an interior-monologue tear about how worthless cats are. That page almost made the other ten million words worth reading. It was funny and it was true. Here’s what I say to friends here in Southern California when they complain about their cats: “Remember, coyotes need to eat too.” To me, it just seems like a win-win.

But now I can see one reason to, if not live with a cat, at least associate with them for brief spells. And that’s because I now see that you can humiliate them.

This entry was posted on Wednesday, October 13th, 2010 at 10:15 pm and is filed under Thoughts. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.