Why I hate cats.

I used to have a cat called Timmy, years and years ago. Obviously, Timmy is not around anymore. But I am convinced that Timmy was actually a dog, or at least a dog’s soul trapped in a cat’s body. Because every other cat I’ve met is unlike him, and also super annoying. They run away whenever I want to pet them, they hiss and  spit when I try to cuddle, they’re pretty selfish because they give me attention only when I have food with me, and basically – I have been spurned by one too many cats, and yes, I am bitter about this so I hate them all, because that’s how mature I am.

Also, because of this video (and millions of other like it): Scaredy dogs afraid of walking past cats

Look at these dogs – some of them are three times the size of those cats, and still they’re so terrified of them! That’s obviously because of how the cats treat them. It’s all supposed to be funny, but I didn’t find it funny at all. The cats were being just plain mean.

Right now, I’m in Kerala for my vacation – at my father’s parents’ home. They have a big garden, with lots of plants and trees. I was sitting in the porch in the afternoon, reading a book. And I see this cat. It’s a white and sandy brown coloured cat (mostly white) and he’s sunbathing in the garden. He’s been running around here past few days, and he’s seen me a couple of times before. So I figured, you know, I should extend my friendship and we could become good pals even though he was a cat. (I am needy and I look for love from every animal I meet.)

the cat in my grandparents' garden.  p.s.: sorry for the terrible picture quality

the cat in my grandparents’ garden.
p.s.: sorry for the terrible picture quality

But noooooo.

No matter how many friendly noises I emitted, or how many times I fake meow-ed to attract his attention – the cat just did not care. knew that the cat knew that I was trying to catch his attention. I just knew it. But there he sat, sunbathing, licking his paw ever-so-casually, paying no heed to my antics. I was trying to ignore the enormous beating my ego was getting, and I refused to accept defeat. Finally, after many long minutes of gesturing and acrobatics, I managed to get the cat’s attention. He looked at me with his green eyes, without blinking.

Great, I thought. I had now established eye contact. My next step was to approach him slowly, to let him know that my intentions were all good because they involved ear scratching and belly rubs for him. So I put my book down slowly, and got up. He put down his paw and I saw his body tense up. Please don’t run please don’t  run I’m thinking. The moment I put my foot outside the porch – that stupid cat scoots. I straighten up, and sigh exasperatedly.

“It’s your loss, cat!” I call out. “You lost out on all those belly rubs you could’ve got!”

I went back to my book, sulking. After a few minutes, I look up, and see the cat is back in his spot. But this time I don’t try to befriend him. Because I’m so done -I’m beyond done.

(and I comforted myself by thinking  that I at least avoided getting my eyes scratched out)

Maybe cats are nice – and I’m sorry if I’ve hurt the sentiments of the cat-lovers who are reading this post. But this is how I feel about them. Now you can go ahead and judge me for being part of that 0.000001% of the internet population who hates cats.


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