So I’m not a cat. I’m not even a monkey. But I’m not letting cats keep this philosophy for themselves.
If you’ve ever owned a cat, then you know full well that “Fuck you, I’m a cat” trumps all. There is no comeback, no counter, no defence, no help. If a cat wants something, then your needs become washed aside with contemptuous ease because – Fuck you, I’m a cat.
What’s that, want to sleep? Fuck you, I’m a cat. Time to run around.
What’s that, making your dinner? Fuck you, I’m a cat. Make mine first.
What’s that, eating your dinner? Fuck you, I’m a cat. Give me some.
What’s that, want to sit and watch some tv? Fuck you, I’m a cat. I’m sitting on you and you’re going to shower me with affection. No, really, this is happening. Get started.
“Fuck you, I’m a cat” may sound rude or aggressive, but it is neither. Cats don’t hate us. They probably feel sorry for us because, after all, we’re not cats. It is a simple statement of the balance of power. I’m a cat, you’re not, so I win. At anything.
“Fuck you, I’m a cat” is not apologetic or trying to justify anything. It does not give a full explanation the way a super villain might. It is not a rant to proclaim superiority.
Supervillain – I’m going to take over the world! Why? Well, let me tell you about my childhood….
Cat – I’m going to take over the world! Why? Fuck you, I’m a cat.
This one simple line is nothing more than a mere offering to let us know what is going on. Obviously cats don’t say it, but the look cats give us convey this sentiment more than words ever can. They don’t need to say it. They don’t need to learn our language. Because….
They have chosen to live lives that are about self satisfaction, following one’s instincts, being one’s self and never worrying about the consequences. They don’t feel bad for what they do because deep down they know they are right. They don’t learn to play fetch, guard homes, do tricks or squawk funny things. They don’t need to. They’re cats.
“Fuck you, I’m a cat” is the greatest of life mottos. But it isn’t really about being a cat. It is about having their attitude. That’s all you need. That’s all they have. All they have ever needed.
They live in the moment. A piece of string can be the most fascinating thing ever. A patch of ground where the sun shines is the most luxurious bed of all time. The thing you are trying to focus on is so compelling they have to be there with you.
They can – and will – be capricious and temperamental. They can purr one second, hiss the next. But again, there is no mystery here. It isn’t their fault. They are just being cats. You have to deal with it. You have to accept it, just as they have accepted themselves.
Cats live unilateral and belligerent lives, not to punish others, but because they want to. They are selfish and smug because they put themselves first, and rightly so. We give them homes and pamper them; in return they bring us dead things. Sometimes half dead things, which is clearly more fun.
They also purr. Purring is great. It just is.
You can keep your ‘YOLO’s and your ‘living each day as it comes’ and your ‘living as if it is your last day’ and everything else. All those whiney, self righteous, delusional cries do nothing than make you seem desperate to find a reason to be the way you are. You’re grasping for something that you can’t find within yourselves.
I don’t need one. I don’t need to go on about this. I won’t. I’m saying it once and that’s all I need to do. After this, all my behaviour is explained. I will have the power. I will have the freedom.
Fuck you, I’m a cat.