Cats vs. People

RIGHT NOW the person I feel closest to is not even a person, he’s a cat, so immediately you know we don’t talk. This annoys me no end, and I’ve attempted to get him to speak my language since he obviously has vocal cords and has no problem using them when he wants something, which is pretty much all the time, but no dice. Still, I’m not complaining. I like it when Lurch (he’s more of a Fluffy but he came already named) communicates a need and I can take care of whatever it is.

In fact, it’s pretty incredible to be able to understand a member of another species. My real problem is the inability to understand members of my own species, even though most of them talk. This happens at least 85% of the time, making me less eager to answer the phone or even leave my home. Naturally attending parties is out of the question.

 Don’t get me wrong—I’m not one of those agoraphobics you hear about, although I totally get what they’re doing. I do leave my home, certainly once every day and more than that on other days. And I go on trips, too many for my taste but my poor husband suffers from wanderlust and his needs must be considered too. On those occasions I spend days, sometimes weeks, out there in the world, adrift in the sea of humanity where anything could happen but thankfully usually doesn’t, at least not to me.

At least not anymore. Years ago, gigantic things happened to me with alarming frequency. Now everything is much calmer and I can happily pass entire days with just my cat and my paints. I do go to a gym three times a week to work out with a personal trainer so my body doesn’t disintegrate. My latest painting is of my trainer, a young man named Noah who has a wild tattoo I found fascinating on someone otherwise so intelligent.

Noah aside, I remain suspicious of tattooed people. Getting one costs a bundle and a big chunk of time. It’s clearly a painful process, and afterwards there they are, always. They never go away. You often see people covered with them from head to toe, on the neck and both arms and legs, who look downright idiotic. Those folks are a perfect example of me not understanding my own species. You will never see a cat with a tattoo, and you can take that to the bank.

—Andrea Rouda
Andrea Rouda blogs at The Daily Droid.