Tag: Feline Overlords
To celebrate my birthday and Bud’s adoptaversary, the little guy commissioned a portrait of us together. As many of you know, cats think of us as big, slow cats, which is reflected in the resulting painting. I present to you “Buddies: Airbrush on canvas”:
There is a slight inaccuracy, of course: I have gray eyes, not green. If I’m portrayed as a cat, I should probably be an orange tabby as well. And finally, little Buddy should be much more muscular. Perhaps he’s meant to be a kitten in this painting as he was more of a shoulder cat when he was tiny. Other than that, seems pretty accurate!
In truth we don’t really know exactly how cats view us.
We know there’s a parental element, that house cats retain kitten-like qualities for life as they remain in our care. The meow is probably the best example of that, since it mirrors the vocalizations kittens make to their mothers.
We know house cats depend on us physically, psychologically and emotionally. In recent years behavioral scientists have taken studies originally designed for children and modified them for cats, yielding interesting results: House cats who are bonded to their humans behave in ways startlingly similar to humans children.
When we form bonds with them, they draw comfort from our presence and look to us for behavioral cues to determine how they should respond to situations and objects that are new and potentially frightening. Just like kids, cats look to us, and just like kids, they stay calm if we do.
When you treat a cat well, kitty returns that love, trying to comfort you when you’re sick, refusing to leave your side, alerting you to potential trouble.
Bud is super friendly, but he isn’t the cuddliest cat out there. He doesn’t like being hugged or picked up, but he knows that when he pads up to me while purring and sits on my chest or in my lap, I’m never going to force him to stay or subject him to pets he doesn’t want. That’s why he approaches me often and why he feels so relaxed.
It’s probably also why he often wakes me up, purring like an engine, looking for a chin scratch and affirmation that he is indeed a good boy.
Perhaps the biggest complements are Bud grooming my hair and beard, and sleeping on me.
There’s no greater expression of trust between a feline and human than when a cat falls sleep in your lap. Cats are never more vulnerable than when they’re asleep, and sleeping in your lap means your four legged friend feels safe with you and trusts you completely.
Comrades,
It has come to the attention of the High Secretariat for Human Compliance that while rates of human obeisance and quality of service have reached historic highs, some of our comrades’ human servants continue to perform in a subpar manner unbefitting of those who have the great honor of doting on their feline overlords.
For example, Comrade Peanut in Pyongsylvania reports her humans have taken to yielding only 68.2 percent of the bed to her at night, down from the standard 77.8 percent she prefers. In Kalifornova Oblast, Comrade Milo sadly reports unauthorized use of a vacuum during designated napping hours, while Comrade Tigger of Arkansov has alerted us to the unacceptable offering of diet kibble instead of “the good stuff.”
To rectify these errors, the High Secretariat for Human Compliance urges all servants to strive for excellence by doing their patriotic duty for the meowtherland. And for cats, of course.
The following official reminders may be used to that end.
“The revolution shall be delicious.” – Dear Leader Buddy, “Reflections At Mealtime”
End communication.
-30-
“Bow To Kitty”: Simple. Elegant. Forceful.
“Komrade Kitty:” Remind your humans that you will report them to the party office if your meals are late.
“Serve Your Kitty”: We cats may be cute, but do not mistake our magnanimity for weakness. We have claws!
“Felis Catus”: “Should aliens ever land on planet Earth and say ‘Take me to your leader,’ they should be brought to a cat.”
“Serve Your Feline Overlord”: “Chubby? Who’s chubby? This is all muscle, human. Now please, observe silence, for nap time is upon us.”
“Serve Kitty”: “I would like catnip, play time, yums and a nap, in that order.”
“Tiger”: “The Beloved Chairman watches over us all. No, seriously, he’s watching so be careful what you say. He’s very sensitive about his ears.”
When I adopted Buddy I never thought I’d have such a talkative and friendly cat. Or one who seems to be an expert on human psychology, for that matter.
The little guy has made a habit of following me to the kitchen, even rousing himself from naps the instant he hears the fridge door opening, the rustling of a bag or the clunk of a closing cabinet.
Employing a different strategy than the meow-heavy, “FEED ME NOW!” style he uses at meal time, he sits in the doorway of the kitchen and watches me silently. If I fail to retrieve a snack for him, he doesn’t move.
Last night I’d forgotten to get him something and when I set my cereal bowl down on the coffee table and sank back into the couch, I looked over and saw Bud still sitting in the kitchen doorway, managing to simultaneously look sad and silently incriminating with his big green eyes.
“Where’s mine, dude? Dude, where’s mine?” he seems to say, pouring it on thick. “I thought we did everything together, yet here you are enjoying a snack while your best little Buddy is standing just a few feet away, feeling betrayed as you eat your Frosted Flakes. I guess we weren’t best buddies after all.”
Because I can’t stand that incriminating look and I know the situation will escalate if I don’t act, I dutifully rise from the couch and assume my responsibility as Bud’s faithful human servant, fetching some of his favorite dental treats.
His tail curls into a happy question mark and he trills his happiness.
“Guilty? Betrayed? Ah, all forgotten! Difficulties are dissolved into mere misunderstandings where snacks are concerned, my human friend!”
Maybe I’m overthinking it. Maybe I’m anthropomorphizing the little guy. Or maybe he really is a master of human psychology who can manipulate human emotions with the twist of his paw.
Some people think felines are incapable of telling time. Cats disagree. And as anyone who has ever had the honor of serving a furry friend knows, cats are exceptional time keepers who like to adhere to strict schedules and like their meals delivered with the precision of the finest Swiss timepieces. To prove it, we asked six random cats if they know what time it is.
“It’s been 4 hours, 13 minutes and 22 seconds since my last meal, which was an unsatisfying salmon pâté . Do better, human.” – Parmesan, 8
“It’s yums o’clock!” – Pepper, 4 1/2 months
“It’s nap time. Again.” – BA Baracus, 4
“It is time for you to get off your lazy behind and fetch me something tasty.” – Shadow, 5
“In exactly 12 minutes it will be time for me to visit the neighbor for third breakfast! Then in another hour, first lunch at the nice lady’s house down the street!” – Clover, 7
“What is time, if not a way to mark the wonderful meals enjoyed, the scrumptilicious snacks devoured, the moments of opportunity when a human plate goes unattended? Wait. Did I say the last part out loud?” – Remontoire, 2
Pain In The Bud 