A furry compadre us humans (well, the cat clan members) will happily stroke repeatedly- the same motion, over and over again- potentially for hours. Keeping both hands on the cat at all times and one eye on the T.V. This tolerance for repetitive actions is something I don't seem to possess when it comes to reluctantly chasing my own feet on the treadmill. For anything besides petting kitties or eating Reece's peanut butter doughnuts, I'd claim to have sustained repetitive strain injury and seek compensation.
|Introducing my 'Friends' inspired cat, Joey.|
Ah the soothing softness when your hands slip jealously over the cat's furiously fluffy coat. No, coat doesn't do it justice. The cat's snugglesome dressing gown- one of those luxurious expensive one's from M&S. Grooming the purring pile with my own winter dry, naked-molerat, evolutionary error, furr-less skin. Oh how I dream of the past millenia of our monkey days, when we too had some kind of furry cardigan. Perhaps that train of thought is only applicable to me.
But it can't just be the elegant exterior of the kitty cats that we find so appealing. Replace the soft creature with an equally slippy silky scarf. An arguably equally hand hugging texture, but not something I can imagine being satisfactory to the companion and comfort craving cat crusaders. No, like all good kids movies morals, cat loving is not just skin deep. There is a kitty quality, a sense of calm and some expert level pet owners would say a completeness that can be achieved from settling down into the sofa with your favourite film and feline.
(And to address the comments about cats being self serving, snobby creatures, I have a rebuttal. Have you ever had such fun with a cucumber? To clarify; I mean scaring cats with said cucumbers. Additionally, they're very fluffy. To clarify again; I mean the cats, not the cucumbers).