Then I got one. I still hate cats, only not my own. I wonder if this is the same feeling people with kids have. They hate all other kids but their own. Probably not. Kids have to interact with other kids on a pretty routine basis, so the parents probably become immune to the annoyances of other children. That is unless their kids are home-schooled. Then the parents probably do hate other kids and fear that they will infect their own children with senseless frivolity, videogame-onset obesity and single-digit IQs. But my cat has never had to interact with other cats unless it’s been through a window, and during those moments he pretty much goes bat-shit. So I guess, in a way, he is a home-schooled cat.

Anyway, the point I was going to make is that I think I was meant to get a cat, even though I hate them. Cats are aloof and standoffish and dole out their affection as if it were some invaluable delicacy like Chinese snow frogs or grape Kool-Aid. A cat’s not going to be all up in your grill, showing you love 24/7 like a dog. A cat will cross your path, nudge his head into your shin and keep walking. That’s it. That’s all the love you get. And if you try to eke out just a smidge more affection from a cat by stifling his gait and picking him up, he will quickly show his disdain for your unwelcome disturbance by scratching out your eyes or putting the supple skin of your chest into an agonizing death grip.

And that’s why I was meant to have a cat. I’m aloof, standoffish (by perception only, I like to think), and because I have hurt and been hurt by love so much in the past, I am stingy with my affection. It comes in dribs and drabs. If I can control to whom and how much love I dole out, it makes things a lot safer for me. Of course, I will probably die a miserable, lonely old man. But hey, we all have our burdens to bear.

In fact, the only difference between me and my cat Charles is that he has the ability to lick his own butt. I can maybe reach a thigh, but definitely can’t get any further than that. Lucky him, I guess — except for the fact that his breath smells like ass all the time.