So You’ve Decided to Let a Cat Own You

Congratulations. You’ve invited a neurotic predator into your home. You thought you were adopting a “companion.” What you’ve actually done is sign an open-ended lease with a small, emotionally distant landlord who may or may not poop in your shoes. Welcome to cat ownership.

This is affection. Or intimidation. Hard to say.

Will This Furry Demon Ever Love Me?

No. Not in any way you’ll recognize. If you’re lucky, they’ll blink slowly at you from across the room—roughly the equivalent of a side-hug from a war-hardened drill sergeant. That’s their version of “I tolerate your continued presence.”

Is the Biting a Compliment?

Maybe. Or maybe you breathed wrong. It’s not personal—it’s just that your wrist looked slightly smug. Cats are martial arts experts in passive aggression. Every love nibble is a veiled threat.

What Does It Mean When They Knock Over My Framed Diploma?

They read it. They were unimpressed. They know you graduated summa cum laude in communications, and they don’t care. Your resume means nothing to a creature who licks its own butt and still looks condescending doing it.

Why Does My Cat Knock Over Full Glasses of Water?

Because chaos is a language, and your cat is fluent. Every toppled tumbler is a Morse code transmission reminding you that you live in their house—and you’re lucky they allow hydration at all.

Why Does he Stare at Me While Pooping?

It’s not weird. It’s dominance. In the wild, exposing oneself during defecation is a show of trust—or a dare. Your cat is saying, “I’m vulnerable, and I still own you. Blink and you lose.”

What Does It Mean When They Sit On My Chest at 4 A.M.?

It’s either affection or a threat. Congratulations: you’ve become both pillow and hostage. Don’t move, don’t breathe too loud, and maybe—just maybe—you’ll survive until breakfast.

What Are the ‘Zoomies’ and Should I Be Concerned?

It’s not demonic possession—it’s worse: it’s recreational. At any hour, your cat may launch into a high-speed obstacle course through your home like a caffeinated poltergeist. This is normal. It means they’re healthy, energetic, and possibly reenacting a car chase they saw in a past life.

Why Do They Ignore the $89 Feather Wand in Favor of Trash?”

Because you’re the idiot who spent $89 on a feather wand. Your cat, a minimalist philosopher at heart, prefers the tactile nuance of a crumpled Arby’s receipt. Bonus points if it smells like shame. Toys are for dogs. Real intrigue lives inside cereal boxes and half-flattened Amazon packaging.

Why Is My Cat in the Salad Bowl?”

Because it’s technically a container, and they technically fit. This is the ancient feline doctrine of “If I Fits, I Sits”—a spiritual law older than gravity. Whether it’s a shoebox, a colander, or your suitcase before a flight, your cat must occupy it. Resistance is futile. So is logic.

Conclusion:

They’ll never say “I love you.” But someday, they’ll sit near you without leaving. Don’t move—you’ll scare them off.

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