Finally. I can sit down and write. I didn't know too many cats could wipe out 24 hours in a day so easily. 24 hours? Heck, it's just a blink. There just isn't enough time to bathe, groom, feed, play, feed, massage, clean litter boxes, massage, feed, babysit 13 cats and three kittens. Not to mention brush, bathe, feed, and play with four dogs.
So keeping cats must be tiring, you say. Tiring? Not when you love bathing, grooming, feeding, playing, massaging cats or cleaning their litter boxes. It is exhausting! And their upkeep can burn a hole in your pocket, or checkbook, or credit card, if you're one of those who managed to hold on to those plastics. Cats, unlike dogs, have no masters. They have slaves. Dogs will look at you adoringly and follow you around for giving them their chow, but cats will reward you a haughty glance for boiling that chicken, slicing it into nice small pieces (so kitty won't bust a gut chewing on a large piece), and serving it on a clean nice plate. If you get lucky, Miss Kitty will wound around your leg to show her appreciation for all your troubles. Never mind that you got an angry gash from tripping down the stairs. Oh, kitty's display of affection is more than enough to make up for all the scratches. I certainly don't mind the cuts brought by my adorable cats.
So where is the reward in cat keeping? Let me count the ways. Because my feline masters eat up my time, I no longer go to the parlor. It's also been a while (two years?) since I had a manicure or pedicure. Because I'm afraid of leaving them for long periods (like an hour), I have eschewed travel. We watch movies together (at home). And we dine together (they insist on keeping us company at the dinner table). So thanks to my furry bosses, I have saved some bucks that would have otherwise gone to such trivial human needs as a hair cut. Oh, and did I say I get my massage for free? Thanks to Pinky, who insists on kneading my tummy when I am in my threadbare sleepwear. With her claws unsheathed.
And best of all, they keep pests away. A sibling limits her visits because she can't stand having cat hair on her clothes. A cousin refuses to come inside the house because his daughter is deathly afraid of cats. And friends don't come for tea or coffee, they don't like cat hair on their brew. Guess they're just being snotty. Coffee with a bit of cat hair tastes just fine to me.