Feline Monologue

So I'm sitting on the couch in my girlfriend's new apartment surrounded by half empty boxes and half decorated walls. In one corner there is a six foot kitty tree with Zoe, my girlfriend's cat, elegantly gazing out the window from the top perch. She has the grace of a dancer and the poise of a regent as she surveys her new domain.

At the other end of the room is my orange tabby, Rousseau, flopped on the kitchen counter. Throughout the moving and unpacking, he remains remarkably unconcerned about anything, save the stray millipede scuttling across the floor.

It is at this point I wonder what is going through each of their minds as they watch me going about my business, whether it be unpacking and rearranging Kelly's new apartment, or lying in a semi-comatose state on the couch with the History Channel droning in the background. Throughout the day we have thousands of things going through our mind, even excluding the subconscious decisions we make just to function.

What's for dinner? Do I have a test next week? Is it raining outside? Who is running for Senate?

Cats have none of these things to worry about. All they do all day is sleep and watch you. They know every corner of their world and do their best to manipulate it to maximize their comfort.

But anyways, back to my cats...

Zoe turns her head so slowly you expect it to creak. She stares you down as if asking you to come over and skritch her chin. Running through her mind is an analysis of your behavior since you walked through the front door, the time since she was last fed, the presence of other people in the house, and the weather outside. She is taking all this into account to predict her chances of getting food and attention at a given point in time. This is what her life revolves around, all the while she acts as though the world revolves around her.

I stand up and walk into the kitchen to grab a glass of water. The sound of the cupboard opening shocks Rousseau to life and he is immediately focused on every one of your movements. There is a key difference though in the observations of Rousseau and Zoe. Whereas Zoe seems to be trying to analyze patterns and predict movements, Rousseau is simply gauging his excitement based on your proximity to him and the food bag. In fact, I rather picture his thought process as being similar to the vuvuzela symphony from the World Cup in South Africa. His blank stare betrays his total inability to plot and scheme, which in my opinion makes him the perfect cat, much like a hound dog actually.

So, in summary, Zoe and Rousseau are a lot like Pinky and the Brain:

Zoe: "Fuzzles, are you pondering what I'm pondering?"

Rousseau: "Bzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz."

Zoe: "Ugh."