On the Other Hand

This is The Cat. This is what she does most of the day.

She does not need us. She is a spectacularly good hunter so, while she's happy to have us set out food for her, she could get it herself.

She will, sometimes, saunter into a room and jump up on my lap. Usually when I'm watching "Gilmore girls" and doing my nails. She will then curl up and start to purr. But she does this because she wishes to, not because she's motivated by pure, unmitigated devotion.

The Cat holds grudges. She was very unhappy about the arrival of The Dog. She did not speak to us for a year. Even now she will sometimes pass by him, nose in the air, then look at me with loathing and distain as if she's the Bush Administration and I'm the Constitution.

But once, a long time ago, she was a 6 week old kitten. She was very freaked out because she'd just been taken from her sibs and handed over to a squealing 3 year old. She ran behind a washing machine to escape the frantic clutches of that excited child (who quickly began to cry because she was being rejected by the long-awaited kitty). The Spouse took The Child to the park to calm her down. I laid down on the couch for a nap. And a little tiny kitten padded slowly toward me, suffered herself to be picked up and promptly went to sleep on my chest.

The Cat denies all of it.