Embracing the cat's indifference will only make my pants tighter.
I thought cats only ate when they were hungry. Many of us are quick to assign human characteristics to our pets, but I swear our cat has turned to food for comfort.
We rescued him when he was a kitten about six years ago. We were at a restaurant and unbeknownst to us as we celebrated Lyle’s birthday at his favorite restaurant, the kitten climbed on top of our engine and subsequently rode 30 miles without getting mangled. We felt obligated to provide shelter; that and we had a seven-year-old kid jumping up and down begging us to keep the kitty.
Scandal was the center of the Fast Pet Kingdom for many years. He radiated cool cat vibes with his distinctive markings and large frame. He carried aloofness around like a badge of honor, and he developed a mean streak as a result of the constant torture he endured from Russell who believed the cat provided better entertainment than a bin of Legos.
Then we got Sonya and she thinks every living creature is destined to be her best friend. No one let Scandal in on this little secret.
Scandal and Sonya quickly learned that a cat without claws carries very little significance in the hierarchy of Darwinism, but the playing field remained fairly equal while Sonya was a clumsy little puppy. The day arrived that Sonya developed the girth to tackle the cat to the floor within seconds. Scandal’s life as he knew it changed.
Is it any coincidence that is the same time that Scandal started circling his food bowl? I can feed him when I get up in the morning and an hour later when Lyle peeks his head out of bed, Scandal is begging for food again.
He gets very affectionate when he wants to eat, which is usually the only time of day that he acts like anyone even exists on the same earthly plane as he does. I wonder if it is the only way he knows how to get a little attention and still maintain standoffish personality that we have come to expect.
I’ve given him extra chow multiple times in the morning convinced that I dreamed feeding him the first time. Surely, he needs food to quiet his desperate pleas. Food comforts me at times – can it do the same for a cat?
He may not need to squeeze into a pair of jeans, but his belly waggles dangerously close to the floor so I’m pretty sure entertainment eating wields similar results for the both of us.
It seems pretty silly to stuff my cat, but should it be any different for me? I’ve been bouncing around in the land of denial for about a month choosing to eat my way through life instead of live it. I’m glad I finally acknowledged it, but it still makes me a little prickly given the fact that I SHOULD know better.
I suppose I could roll around in guilt for awhile, but I have a feeling that would make my pants even tighter. I also know that holding on to the indifference of a cat will get me nowhere close to where I want to be.
