I never thought of my old cat Katzu (who passed away in August) as my child, like some pet-owners do. Katzu was more of a partner, a peer, a soul-mate. Sorry if this sounds corny, but it's true. I got Katzu when he was 7 years old which means he was already a grown-ass man when we moved in together. And I didn't so much take care of him as a parent, I was more like... his servant. Served him food, cleaned up his crap, massaged his scalp. I miss Katzu.
But now that we have two new cats, young cats, less than a year old, I get it. I understand why idiots think

their pets are their children. They sort of are. I take at least 20 pictures of the cats everyday to make sure I don't miss out on any developments - oh look, they're together on the couch! (take picture) Oh, look, how cute, they're eating together! (take picture) Oh look, they're sleeping! (take picture), etc. We weigh them on a regular basis to see how much they are growing. When the cats play with loose change that they find lying around in the apartment, Sean and I even get to say annoying things like: "Stop throwing money around!" and "Do you think money grows on trees?!?" and "Do I look like a bank to you??" Stuff that real parents get to say.
I love having the two new boys around even though I miss Katzu tremendously.
1 comment:
Åååh, jag gillar din blogg!
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