As someone who is "owned" by two beautiful cats (no, they're not a "couple," they're actually "fag" and "hag" - see previous posts,) it is my job to see that they are happy. I can't see how they wouldn't be, because so far, I think I'm doing a pretty good job. If they want an early breakfast at 4 a.m., I crawl out of my warm bed to fill their bowls. If Harold wants a drink of fresh water out of my drinking glass, I quickly offer it up. If Henri wants the blanket I'm using all to herself, I take it from my body and gently wrap it around her. If either of them wants up in the window sill to chirp at birds but is having trouble getting up there, I hoist their fat asses up, then wait for them to indicate that they're ready to be lifted down. Sure, these chores are sometimes minor inconveniences to me, but somehow my two cats have me believing that it is not only my duty but my privilege to comply.
There has been a long line of pampered pets in my family. My parents, both big animal lovers themselves (although my dad tries to hide his gushing but not very well,) taught me that this is the only way to treat your pets, like they are your family - better than family. My dad works out of town most weeks, and when he gets home on Friday evening, he gives a quick greeting to his human family then rushes out to greet his canine and feline family. Also, he used to faithfully lift our pretty kitty, Lottie, up and down from a tall shelf in a picnic basket. It was the cutest thing! Little Lottie just got used to such treatment and would patiently wait for my dad to arrive with her special transportation. My mom is just as bad (or good, really) at pampering our pets. For years she actually put off major surgery while our beloved beagle, Margaret, received top medical treatment for any small ailment like a benign cyst on her ankle and $80 worth of blood work for a stomach ailment caused from eating too much lasagna.
I know lots of people who spoil their dogs, but those with really spoiled cats (like mine) truly know what it's like to become a servant to your pet. There is a saying that particularly rings true in my home, "dogs have owners, cats have staff." And I wouldn't have it any other way! Now, I have to go. My two little "managers" need their monogrammed fleece blankets fluffed and warmed in the clothes dryer.
I relate to this so much. I was raised in a home where my mom allowed a golden retriever puppy to systematically destroy every square inch of our house rather than crate her or lock her up or out. And my dad used to refer to me as "sissy" in relation to his beloved, recently deceased Border Collie, Tippy. He considered Tippy to be his four legged daughter, therefore I was Tippy's sister. :) And recently, my mom adopted a pregnant stray cat and raised the kittens like it was her career. She was like a new mom, I had to come over and "kitten-sit" so she could "get out and talk to adults for a while". All this also made me someone who shares a life with animals and thinks of them as needy little fur people. I'm glad there are others out there that have been "had" by their pets. :)
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