Don’t @ me: Cats are the superior pets

It’s a cat’s world and we’re all just living in it

Dog lovers step aside, cats are way better. Photo Olivia Integlia

When I tell people I have a cat, the first response I get is, “Why did you get a cat and not a dog?” The short answer: I am more of a cat person. The longer answer—one that I often refrain from sharing for fear of being labelled a crazy cat mom—is that cats are the superior beings, and I would not settle for anything less.

Last May, I adopted Klaus, my first pet—a black and white tuxedo cat. Only a couple months old, Klaus decided his favourite things were food and stuffed mice. This ball of fluff completely shaped my notion of cats.

Despite the popular misconception, cats are not aggressive and will not  attack the first person they see.  Regardless of where they get this label from, cats are very docile animals; at least all the cats I have met are. They are all meow and no bite. Klaus is likely to leave a room that is too noisy or walk away from anyone that is annoying him. 

I have noticed that cats will not even bother lifting their head when someone walks into the room. I often joke that Klaus is the real owner of the house. The entire basement is his personal jungle gym, he walks around wherever he wants, and everyone is at his command.

Cats will only approach humans when they require something. The Hill’s website, a cat food company, says that  meowing was a skill specifically developed to voice concerns to 

their owners and not communicate amongst other cats. Essentially, it is their way to make demands to their inferiors. From experience, I can tell you that Klaus only meows for food and attention. 

Cats can also be very picky in a way that further shows how superior they think they are. For instance, my cat prefers sleeping on elevated surfaces so he can look down on everyone. Some may be particular with the food they are given. Most dogs I know will sit around the dinner table and eat the food that falls on the floor, but not my cat. Klaus demands the most expensive cat food, or else he refuses to eat. 

Among all these quirks, my personal favourite is blepping—a cat's unconscious act of sticking its tongue out for a period of time. Klaus tends to blep as frequently as three times a day. Aside from being the most bizarre phenomenon, it is simply very cute. I sometimes get the sense that my cat sticks out his tongue just to get a laugh out of me. 

It is without a doubt that cats are a pet like no other. They were born to be praised. Since Klaus’ arrival, my life has been tailored to fit his needs. I wake up early everyday to feed him, Sunday nights are reserved for his grooming, and a large portion of my paychecks go to buying him fancy toys and seasonal costumes. Yet, despite it all, his sassy attitude and distinct personality make it all worth it.