Meow. I write, flanked by two furry donuts that twitch gently as they dream of the world beyond my home. They entertain and comfort. They bring joy.
Cats have always been my preferred pet. I don’t have to walk them twice a day, I don’t have to wrap my hand in a plastic bag to pick up their messes. Cats naturally know to use the litter box, for the most part. Caring for cats is easier considering how I get tired at the end of the day after work.
They’re not so noisy, a blessing for those who are occasionally sensitive to loud noises. Their zoomies, I can handle with amusement.
In the mornings, my cats leave my side to make themselves little pockets of curtain by the window, where they watch the life outside while soaking up the sunshine’s warmth. Furry little solar panels. 🙂
Cats are comfort. They show affection when they feel okay for it, much like my own temperament.
My only regret is that I’ve never had a cat for longer than 3 years or so. (A cat can usually live for fifteen years.) My previous cats were outdoors cats, and usually some mishap would befall them eventually. Cars. Poison. My mother’s insanity. Yeah.
My current cats have been with me for a year and a half and eight months so far. If all goes well, I hope they’ll remain indoor cats for their very very long lives. Here’s hoping.