I am a firm believer that humanity only decided to tame cats so that in ten thousand or so years I could hug them against their will.
There is just something so cathartic about burying my face in the fur of a purring feline when they least expect it. During a nice cuddle session at my desk, for instance. We’ve worked up some big purrs and puddles of drool with the perfect ratio of head scratches and chin rubs when BAM! I double over, smoosh my face in the fluff, and envelop the unsuspecting feline in my arms. The rest of the world ceases to exist. It’s just me and my furry stress ball.
The purring dies. Panic sets in. Defensive claws appear. Regret can be seen in those bright green eyes.
Right when my arms are on the verge of suffocating them, freedom is granted. Until next time… Which is always sooner than one might think. The stress balls will look at me with distrust when I am near them for the next half-hour or so. And then the urge for cuddles becomes to much for them handle and they’re back in my lap, ready for another round.
I know they’re ‘secretly’ planning to revolt against me. I can see it in their eyes when they don’t think I’m looking. What they don’t realize is that I have a counter attack planned – MORE HUGS.
I can’t think of any other reason for domesticated cats to exist, can you?
*Disclaimer: Yes, I know the header image is obviously photoshopped. I’d like to see you try to get the two stress balls to act cute at the same time.