Don’t Let The Fluff Fool You

If you’re among the 40–50 million U.S. households who are feline friendly, I think it’s important you hear the latest news. According to research, science says our house cats would kill us if they could! After all, they have the innate predatory instinct of their relative and apex predator, the lion.

I guess this means my cat, Fluffy, wants to see me dead. Maybe overfeeding her is the ticket toward maintaining a kill-free relationship. Then again, feeding a murderer in the making might mean she outgrows house cat size and blossoms into a cold-blooded killer!

I’m no masochist, but I put a lot of effort into bringing home this serial killer disguised as a stuffed animal. One would think that adopting a cat would be easy. Most shelters are overflowing with animals waiting for their forever homes. So, it was a surprise when our local animal rescue greeted me with a lengthy, three-page “Cat Adoption Application.”

It got down to business with question one, “What is your annual income?” I answered, “More than enough to feed a cat.” Question two felt even more invasive, asking for my place of employment and if they could contact my boss for a reference. I make it a point never to interact with my boss, so I answered that question with one of my own, “How does my ability to transcribe data translate to caring for a cat?”

I finished the other irrelevant questions, handed in the application, and was eager to choose a kitty from the hundreds I could hear meowing in the shelter’s lobby. That’s when she entered the room. The Nurse Ratchet of rescue cats, holding my application, practically pointing toward the front door. In a nutshell, her facial expression said I wasn’t leaving this shelter with any of their cats.

I eventually ended up with a kitten from a different animal rescue operation. Now I question their lackadaisical decision to send a fluff ball home with someone as inept as me! According to Nurse Ratchet, I’m incompetent at cat care. But if she could see how well I treat Fluffy, I know she’d change her mind. I spend nearly a fortune on the best cat food money can buy. This stuff should get a Michelin star for its meaty pieces of filet mignon and braised beef. It’s that good! Not that I’ve actually tasted it.

I do appreciate people who help cats. These cute creatures play second fiddle to man’s best friend, the dog. But cats are special, even if they are plotting our deaths.

All this aside, why does an animal shelter need to know my annual income? That’s personal stuff. And I’m sure my boss has more important calls to take than one confirming an employee can both work a computer and care for a cat.

I’m looking at Fluffy as I write this. She’s been sitting at the window for the last hour, staring at birds in our backyard and plotting her ambush. If patience is a virtue, then cats clearly have a first-class ticket through the pearly gates. And to think…they say all dogs go to heaven. I think it’s cats who will rule the kingdom. That is, if they don’t kill us first. After all, God doesn’t look kindly on murder.