Bobbi was a feral cat. Now she controls the house. If you doubt it, see her new resting place–a bowl on a living room table.
I admit to being a dog person. I appreciate the wisdom of the politician who told another one that if you want a friend, get a dog. Dogs are companions. They appreciate groups because they run in packs. They want your approval and seek it. Tails, sometimes bodies, wagging, they rush to greet you when you come home. They run in circles if you use the word walk. Yes, they need a great deal of attention, but it is repaid many times over.
I admit I really don’t understand cats. They are individualists. They really don’t need you and seem somewhat embarrassed that they do require you to feed them. I think secretly they wish they could open the can of food and feed themselves. They disappear in the house and only emerge at feeding time. If they sit on your lap, you feel they have granted you a gift.
We have four cats and only one dog. Poor dog. The cats have taken over. They occupy four rooms, prowl at night, meow when they want something, and generally rule the household. If our four cats ever teamed up (they can’t, of course) they could rule the neighborhood. One of my favorite poems talks about a “cat minority of one.” Individualism may be a good thing in humans, but when it comes to cats it is absolutely essential else they rule the world.
Now I have to run off. One of the cats is crying to be fed.