We voted 3 times today at the faculty senate. Twice mine was the only voice that said “nay.” Loudly. The third time, I was joined by one other voice.
The upside is that I voted my conscience and that’s always good. The downside is that every time this happens, people want to become my friend. And I have even less time for that now because my cat expects me to play with her every evening. Today she chased me off my bed when I tried to abbreviate my playing duties.
How old is the cat? It didn’t look super young in the pictures, I’d mostly expect one that’s barely over kittenhood to need consistent playtime … especially with a kid in the house.
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She’s a little over 3.
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Everybody in the house thinks it’s their cat. When it’s clearly my cat. Strange people.
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The most important question is what is the cat’s opinion on this.
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Every cat my family ever had (and there’ve been several) has nominally belonged to one of us kids. But if you had asked the cats, every one of them belonged to my dad– who never wanted a cat, never paid any particular attention to them, and always wound up having to share his favorite chair with the cat and do his crossword in an acrobatic manner, bending and reaching around the cat. Whether he would or no, dad belonged to the cat.
-ethyl
“if you had asked the cats, every one of them belonged to my dad”
Around (registered) horse people they used to say ‘the horse can’t read the registration papers’ to refer to horses bonding with particular people, not necessarily the official owner.
Also with cats, a little inattention can act like a magnet…. they don’t want a member of the household around who doesn’t recognize their sovereignty.
A conservative literary critic and college professor
Clarissa's Blog 
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