Cats are finicky people. Yes I know the definition of people is “group of humans” but don’t argue, just listen and you’ll agree; Cats are finicky people.
There’s this cat that lives in my house. It has several different names, Casey, K.C., CaseyJack, Fatso. It doesn’t really matter what you call him, and he answers to none of them. Notice I didn’t say “I have this cat”, or “My cat, K.C.”, or “Our family cat”, no, this cat simply resides in my house, rent free.
He’s like a bad boyfriend or girlfriend. He shows up for some attention and he’s off, never to be seen again, until he needs something, and the only “something” he ever needs and shows up for is food.
Food!
That’s right, this FAT CAT shows up only when he wants to eat, and you darned well better feed him…immediately. If you don’t, he goes into this whole needy person bit, falling down on the floor, crying, flipping over in front of your feet.
He doesn’t even know how to meow. All he can get out is “MEH”.
That’s it! “MEH”.
What the crap is “MEH”? I mean really, “MEH”? What does it mean? Well, I know what it means. In this instance, “FEED ME!” But really, is that the best you can come up with? “MEH”?
If the falling down and crying part doesn’t work, he goes into “hyper-rubbing-my-face-on-you” mode. Just as the title describes, he follows you EVERYWHERE you go rubbing his face on your feet, ankles, legs, cabinets, doors, furniture, chairs, table legs, black dress-pants, anything he can get his fat, furry face on, as long as he’s sure you can see him do it.
Oh, and just in case he gets hungry in the middle of the night, he has this other neat trick. It’s called the “I’m-gonna-stick-my-paw-under-your-door-and-rattle-it-so-loud-you’ll-think-someone-is-breaking-in-so-you-can-get-up-and-feed-me-‘cause-I’m-hungry-now” trick. This is a really cool trick. My heart loves it.
OK, so the cat that lives in my house gets fed. He’s happy right? Since he’s well fed he really rubs on our legs now, right?
WRONG!
It’s at this point that he turns into a feline Mr. Hyde. He gets a crazy look in his eyes, runs in terror from the very legs and feet he mere moments before could not stop rubbing, bolts from hiding place to hiding place, finally slinking upstairs, never to be seen again until Fatso, his schizophrenic altar-ego shows up wanting food.
This is where the people part comes in.
K.C. reminds me of some of the people I’ve known in my life…finicky people. People who require ‘a little more handling’. Does he remind you of someone you know? Does he remind you of someone you work with? Does he remind you of a relative? Does he remind you of me? Does he remind you of you?
Finicky means requiring much care, precision, or attentive effort.
Cats are finicky people…and sometimes people are too.
I hope I’m not!
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