In my next life

In my next life, I want to be a cat. Not just any cat. My cat.

Yes I know I would be dead by then therefore I’d have to be someone else’s cat. And my cat already exists so I’d have to either push him out of his life or meld with his life. I don’t believe in reincarnation so bending the space-time continuum and blending life-forces seems equally legit.


This is my cat. If you didn’t just go “aww” there’s something wrong with you.

His life is pretty awesome. He sleeps. He eats. He plays.

Like all cats, my cat sleeps a lot and he sleeps in random places. He usually sleeps fully stretched out, requiring more space than a baby hippopotamus. He sleeps on my queen sized bed and my kazillion thread count sheets. He sleeps on the printer which is now completely coated in cat hair on every surface and in every crevice. He sleeps on the floor right in the middle of the area that sees the most foot traffic. He sleeps in the bathroom sink but only moments before I need to use it. He sleeps on the stove and manages to turn the stove on while he’s on it. He sleeps just inside the front door so nobody can get in or out. He sleeps on me. He sleeps basically anywhere except his cat bed. 

When he wakes up, he knows he doesn’t have to worry about his next meal. This resort provides three meals a day. Plus biscuits whenever he’s feeling peckish. On Saturdays I roast a chicken – drumsticks and wings for the humans, the rest of the bird for the cat over the next few days. On other days we eat what he likes to eat so he can share – chicken, salmon, tuna, steak as long as his is cooked rare and cut into itty bitty pieces. Water bowls are there to be knocked over. He prefers to drink water from the tap. Usually while I’m elbow deep in suds while washing the dishes or moments before I need to spit out the froth from brushing my teeth.

His main purpose in life (when he is awake) is to destroy things.

Curtains – I have run out of ideas on how to protect the curtains. They were doused in cat repellent, hanging into a protective plastic box which was wrapped in double-sided tape and sitting in a sea of aluminium foil with me hovering nearby with a water squirter. It became ugly and unpleasant. And it didn’t stop him. So curtains have been banned from my home. So what if I have to wear sunglasses indoors. So what if I wake up literally at the crack of dawn. So what if all my neighbours can watch me getting dressed. At least I don’t have to worry about the curtains anymore.

Furniture and rugs – I know cats need to scratch to keep their claws nice. That’s why he has 4 scratching apparatuses in the living room alone. Vertical / horizontal / angled. Wide / narrow. Rope / cardboard / fabric. With catnip / without catnip. He will navigate through the field of appropriate scratching apparatuses to perform his manicure on the new sofa.

Anything he can push/pull over – Remote controls are for beginners. My cat has reached expert level. We’re talking a full glass of wine. A mug of scalding hot coffee (which he stupidly pulled towards himself and then sat in the puddle of hot coffee as it soaked into the old sofa). Lenses for my D-SLR camera. The crazier the object or the greater the height, the more he enjoys it. A pen from the coffee table elicits no reaction. But an open glass bottle of pasta sauce from the kitchen counter will cause a smug satisfied look and a self congratulatory paw lick.

And at least once a day, he has to run around like a maniac for 10 minutes. It seems to happen just after he poops. If he could speak, I’m sure he would be screaming “I POOPED! I POOPED!” as he launches himself over me as I huddle on the sofa with a cushion held out before me for protection from the crazy cat.

He has no fears or worries. Pooping is the highlight of his day. He is always loved, always forgiven, always pampered.



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