Other People’s Cats

Other people’s cats are great. There’s really not much else to say, other than the fact that you don’t have to deal with them. They come in, act cute and get cuddles, or bugger off and hide, then go back to doing their own things. Mind you, not all pets act the same. Some cats will zoom to whoever likes cats the least, while the more social cats will lounge around, waiting for snacks and scritches. But at the end of the day, you can give a cat back to its owner and don’t have to deal with it any more. Unless you’re pet-sitting, of course.

Our own cats, well, not so much. We see our cats all the time, so we know what all our cat’s little treats and tricks are. Plus, we have to look after our own cats. Feed them, nurture them, scoop up their poop. Looking after a cat is pretty universal. Some cats get playtime outside, others go nutters for half an hour then go back to sleep, only to wake you up in the middle of the night. Why? Who knows.

I write this article mostly in jest. Thing is we never had pets while I was growing up. Which partly is why I don’t like that same old security question: “name your first pet”. As an aside I don’t think questions like these are particularly safe when it comes to, well, online safety. You can just head to Facebook and check out a victim’s information all in one easy-to-access place.

Anyway, the two pets we saw the most were my nana’s blessed slowpoke dog, called Tinker; and the dog my cousins had, which was called Jessie. Tinker died when I was quite young, but he was a truly old dog anyway and all he did was sleep and slowly burn while sitting next to the fireplace. Jessie on the other hand was a great little dog. She was incredibly fast, even if she only had three legs. Both have passed now, but as a kid, that was the only connection I had to pets.

It wasn’t until Mog turned up, quite a few years ago, that we ended up with a pet. The reason Mog is called Mog is because we were told not to give the cat any real intention, in case it disappeared or something. Mog is actually still going, happy and healthy, and is looked after by me and my brother. Well, he’s not happy because I won’t give him raw chicken, but he is both well-fed and well-looked after.

We did have other pets over the years though. Colin, our beloved beagle, now lives on an actual farm, definitely not a farm in the sky. Sadly Ringo does live in a farm in the sky. Somehow though, our earliest cat has turned out to also be the oldest.

But anyway, back to other people’s cats. I’m currently keeping an eye on two other cats, the ones that belong to my boyfriend. And damn, they are very small kitties. Both under a year old. They are both annoying and adorable, as well as fussy. But they are also wonderful.