Lessons From My Cat

I went to Whole Foods yesterday with my dad and I learned something. They have this new thing. It’s called smiling. I tried it out on some strangers in the Whole Foods elevator and let me tell you, I don’t need an elevator pitch. All I have to do is show up in an elevator and people are very impressed. And if I offer them the slightest smirk they drop to their knees in admiration.

The power has gone to my head, especially after reading my dad’s last blog, in which he argues for an ecology of the family, a reasonable balance of power. Total garbage, ok? I know who’s in charge around here. Me. So I offer this simple instruction to my parents:


Ok? That should not be difficult for you people. For example, I think you should be treating me at least as well as you treat the cat. I will offer a few pointers.

You insist on giving me baths. I notice that you never bathe the cat, so I don’t see why I should endure this torture. Do you have any idea what it is like to have warm water poured over you? Or to be sponged off gently with a clean washcloth? The whole process makes me want to scream, and I often do. Addendum:  On a hot day, it’s actually not so bad.

I notice that the cat, when nobody is looking, jumps up on the counter and licks the butter right from the stick. This looks like a worthwhile food source to supplement breast milk, so I would like to try it. Addendum: If I am ever in a spelling bee I will know how to spell stomachache.

The cat has his own litter box, yet I am confined to diapers, sometimes double diapers at night, which is quite stuffy. I should be allowed to have my own place to go to the bathroom, in a playground-like sandbox. Addendum:  The results of this experiment were unmentionable and it shall not be repeated.

I notice you let the cat sleep wherever he wants. On the floor, the couch, the windowsill, on my toys. I would like this same freedom. You put me in this crib thing which disturbingly resembles a jail cell. Yet the cat runs free. Justice? Equality? I think not. I’d rather sleep in the middle of the bathroom floor, just like the cat. Addendum: Actually, my crib has a pretty nice mattress made of coconut fiber that I am given to believe was quite expensive. It is more comfortable than the bathroom floor and nobody mistakenly pees on you at night. The cat should have his head examined.

I notice that you feed the cat at all hours. He has a bowl of food on the floor and his own water fountain. Why can’t I have this? I have to wait for mom to come by or dad to make a bottle. All I’m asking for is a bowl of milk on the floor next to the cat’s. Addendum: The cat is really agressive. He drank all the milk before I got any.

Even though none of these experiments worked out, I am not satisfied. My dad thinks there is an ecology to families, but I still believe my parents should put me at the center of their universe at all times. Don’t they know that my fragile ego demands this? Don’t they realize that every time they deny me something, they are punching a hole in my little personality that will later be filled with an addiction to bad relationships, or golf?

I will propose, playing masterfully on their guilt, that they meet all my needs first and forget about themselves. Who’s the new life force in town, huh? Who can charm elevator riders with a mere smirk? You’re looking at him.

Addendum: After a week of me being in charge, the sink piled high with dishes and nobody vacuumed. No work was done and no money came in. The laundry went unwashed, so I didn’t have any clean clothes to wear when impressing people in elevators. After just seven days of me all the time, everything was such a mess around here that I threatened to move into a hotel.

I will never admit it, and luckily my parents never read this blog, but maybe finding a balance between their needs and mine isn’t such a bad thing.

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