I love my cats but they are assholes

I’m not a dog person. I’ve had cats for most of my life and loved every one of them. Currently, we have two: a 2 year-old stray and a one year-old from a shelter, and they’re great. I love them dearly. But they’re also assholes.

The point has been driven home for me over the last four days. My wife, who normally gets up a bit before I do and feeds them, is gone on a trip. Every morning I’m woken up by loving, purring cats trying to snuggle up with me starting around 5:30AM. They continue to periodically bother me in bed until I finally feed them around 8 when I get up.

Each afternoon starting around 3:30PM, they begin circling my home office desk, purring and meowing, wrapping their tails around my legs, and as time gets closer to 5PM they start jumping on my lap and following me wherever I go until I feed them each night just after 5.

That’s the great thing about my adorable, loving cats: their love is entirely conditional. Normally they hang around my wife no matter what time of day or what she is doing and it didn’t click until this week that the cats simply bestow attention on whoever controls their kibble and wet food.

I love that it is explicit and obvious to everyone involved. No passive-aggressive backhanded compliments or hiding behind rhetoric or euphemism. No, my cats are perfectly clear: they simply love whoever is feeding them.