Yesterday afternoon, I was doing my usual hyperactive best - watching several Youtube videos at once. That’s a lie, I don’t do that, how could I simultaneously be playing 2048 with all that excitement? Anyway, all of a sudden, I got a Facebook notification [insert hands in the air emoji]. Because I’m addicted to social media and/or have little to do as of late, I immediately checked it out: a friend had tagged me on an apparently serious article claiming that pets actually consider their humans to be sort of parents to them.
To be fair, I didn’t read out the article: what am I, made of time? Well, although I am, I also very clearly suffer from a significant bout of laziness, and have done so for the past couple of decades. In any event, the title was enough for me to feel pretty good about myself. I immediately looked for our little guy (that would the cat) in the apartment: it’s a small place and I was sitting in the middle of living room by the kitchen bar, I should be able to spot him fairly quickly. He was not in his little cot, nor was he at my feet (he sometimes likes to do that because the chair hides him from me, and he probably finds this funny - or he’s preparing to jump me, either way). I eventually found him, half a second later: he was quietly napping on the sofa on the other side of the room.
I stood up, walked towards him, he didn’t make a move. I sat next to him, still nothing. I started petting him in some sort of fatherly way (I assume). That’s when he perked up, opened his eyes and looked at me with a grin that fairly clearly said: “There are two kinds of people in the world: those with fragile human skin and those with claws and sharp canines. You dig?”
Being a good father, and a somewhat scared individual, I chose not to test out my assumption and leave the little guy alone. A father’s job can be so thankless sometimes.