You know, sometimes I feel bad that I'm so.... forgive me... pussy-whipped. I get up at 4 or 5 every morning to feed her, and she's even got me spending the big bucks on a special raw food diet. And try as I might, I can't stick to keeping her on a diet. But then, I started comparing our lives.
My major responsibilities:
go to work
file tax returns,
vote, generally participate in democracy
attempt to stay apprised of world news and current events
buy groceries ( including the special cat food I can only get at the pet supply store)
wash dishes (including Sally's dishes)
vacuum (the inch deep layer of Sally's fur all over the apartment)
Take out the trash / recycling / compost
generally clean house (& Sally's litter pan)
stay up on my car's service & maintenance
make sure Sally gets her vaccinations & regular check ups
try to fight the good fight against global warming, poverty, aids, racial or religious intolerance (Starving Kitties in Iraq etc.)
And of course do all those fun things that make life worth living, hang out with friends, keep in contact with family, spend time on my hobbies etc.
Sally's major responsibilities:
Lick self inappropriately when guests come over.
As she sleeps upwards of 18 hours a day, she's always well rested enough to engage in her favorite activity of all - insisting I feed her. And, cold blooded murder that she is, she has no moral qualms with biting me, scratching me, or waking me up at the crack of dawn to achieve her goals. I'm just no match for that kind of single purposed focus of mind and body. So she wins, and I feed her. Whatcha gonna do?
I just pray to whatever god is in charge of reincarnation, that I get to be a cat next time around.