Pets and children: the cat stinks and so do you

“Lola, you stink,” my daughter says to the cat. While technically true, this is not entirely fair. After all, Miss L. just visited the litter box, and no cat has ever done nice-smelling things in there. It’s not what litter boxes are for. So, in fact, she did what was expected of her, in the appropriate place; is it her fault that Mother Nature decided long ago that poop should smell like… well, poop?

“Whereas you smell like lilies of the valley when you go to the bathroom,” I tell Isabella.
She responds in the preferred way: she simultaneously rolls her eyes and sticks out her tongue. Super coordinated, that girl. Before she walks off, she looks at me as if she’s heard my lame comment a hundred times before; probably because she has. I like my sarcasm predictable; that way, my kids can pick up on it easily, and hopefully get a head start on using it themselves.

Recently, I took my son to the pet store, where he picked up a cat toy. A glove, with a little dangling thingy on each finger. Feeling the full impact of his big brown eyes, I didn’t have the heart to say no, and let him bring it home. The cats were not amused; they looked at the toy with enough disdain to make a grown man cry. After many fruitless attempts by Mendel, the toy disappeared into a drawer somewhere.

Hundreds of articles and books have been written about the relationship between humans and animals, and the bond between kids and their pets in particular. They can build relationships with those pets, animals don’t judge; they can learn responsibility by taking care of it. I would bet good money that most of these stories apply to the family dog; the longer I think about it, the more I believe our two ancient cats don’t make for the best childhood friends.

Proetie is thirteen; Lola is nine. They are old and lazy, and they are bitter. Massively bitter. It’s lucky they can’t talk, or they might say some very impolite things. While the older one allows the kids to pet her, she does so only because walking away is too much work. Lola, on the other hand, wants nothing to do with either of the children. She spends her days hiding, thinking of ways to take revenge for the smelly comments, I’m sure.

I don’t think the life of a housecat is all it’s cracked up to be. I’m sure they crave meat, but get organic dry crunchy stuff instead. They live with a fish-loving family, but never get any; regardless of how many staring contests they win. Maybe, at some point during those eighteen-hour naps, they dream about the jungle, about chasing small game in the wild, about running, and roaring like miniature lions. About a better existence, outside of the litter box.

For more info about kids and cats: Kids & Cats, Feline Education, or PAWS