All cats are more or less psychotic. Please, spare me the notes of protest; your dear Muffy is not the exception to this rule. She may bear a very different form of psychosis than my cat or someone else’s, but all cats are somehow psychotic nonetheless. Mind you, I am not anti-cat; I am merely pro-truth. I have had both cats and dogs my entire life, and our family always takes royally good care of every animal in our household – even our current cat, the root of my evaluation that all cats are more or less psychotic.
I have written of Duchess before, the lovely white fur ball with beautiful eyes that we got for my wonderful eldest daughter. Her name, chosen by said daughter, is a good reflection of her feline view of the world. It is clear that she views all of humanity as her subjects, and all dogs, birds, fish, squirrels, raccoons, possums, skunks, deer and other nearby creatures as far inferior life forms, something akin to moving vegetables.
Duchess has always been snooty. Recently, though, she has added a new and unique twist to her snootiness. When we pull in the driveway each night and exit the vehicle, she will come running from the woods or from the small barn, making a beeline for us as if she is beyond thrilled to see us and is going to jump straight into our arms for a warm hug.
And then, about 6 feet from us, she will slam the brakes, turn away from us and casually saunter away as if she did not see us. No amount of calling out “Here, Kitty Kitty!” will compel her to so much as acknowledge our existence. She has, in her mind, successfully accomplished her mission of not just snubbing us but of making sure we are well aware that she has snubbed us.
The next morning we will be allowed to pet her as we feed her. But the next night, she will again run to us to make sure we know we are being snubbed.