The upcoming presidential election is already in our face like an ingrown whisker, so we cats have been discussing how we’d vote if we could. (Don’t worry, that day will come.)
Fred, Adele, and I are in total agreement that we’re not Republicats. We call purely decorative lounge lizards who luxuriate in beautiful homes with plenty of soft beds and gourmet food from tiny golden cans “fat cats.” They view the world through rose-colored windows and think it’s a given that their cushy lifestyle will last all their nine lives.
I met some at the Richmond Animal League, the shelter I came from. Mostly, they were shell-shock cases whose owner suddenly died or moved somewhere pet-unfriendly. The lucky ones weren’t brought in all matted and half-dead after being tossed out on their tails to fend for themselves.
Once they had nothing, you’d be amazed how quickly their snooty smugness turned into deep gratitude for whatever pats and handouts they could get.
Fred grew up on the streets, and Adele’s earliest kittenhood was also spent at the League, so we’ve never taken our good fortune for granted. We know how fine the line is between being a beloved companion animal and feral.
We believe that every cat – regardless of color, age, neutered, spayed (or not), declawed or fully armed – deserves a safe home, a full food bowl, and veterinary care.
That sums up most of what we agree on. Conformity isn’t our specialty.
If we felines had a candidate, he or she would be an Independent or Libertarian. Unfortunately, we’re limited to human choices, so we’re declaring ourselves Democats.
How that will shake out around here is another tail…