CONVERSATIONS WITH THE CAT (THAT SHE DEFINITELY WON)
Let’s get one thing straight — I live with a cat.
Not own a cat. Not take care of a cat.
Live with a cat — an independent roommate who neither pays rent nor respects boundaries, yet somehow runs the entire household.
Every cat parent knows that their feline communicates through an intricate blend of blinks, tail flicks, and withering stares. But mine? She also uses a language I can only describe as “sarcastic meowish.”
Here’s a glimpse into a few of our most memorable “conversations” — and how, despite my best efforts, she always wins.
Conversation 1: The 5 a.m. Wake-Up Call
Me: “It’s 5 a.m., please stop screaming.”
Cat: MEOWWWW.
Me: “You have food.”
Cat: MEOWWWW.
Me: “You literally have an automatic feeder.”
Cat: Stares at feeder. Then at me. Then knocks a pen off the nightstand.
At this point, I realize she doesn’t want food. She wants drama.
It’s not about hunger; it’s about power.
I get up, bleary-eyed, and refill the bowl anyway — because clearly, the food that’s already in there doesn’t count.
She sniffs it, takes one bite, and walks away.
Winner: Cat.
Loser: Me (and sleep).
Conversation 2: The Laptop Situation
Me: “I need to finish this presentation.”
Cat: Casually sits on keyboard.
Me: “No. Off.”
Cat: Presses ‘Esc’ with tail. Looks me dead in the eye.
Me: “Okay, but you can sit next to the laptop.”
Cat: Sits even more squarely on keyboard.
Apparently, “laptop” is cat language for “warm rectangle that exists solely for me to lie on.”
I try bribing her with treats. She swats the treat away and presses Ctrl + Alt + Delete.
Winner: Cat (now co-presenter).
Loser: Me (and my unsaved document).
Conversation 3: The Grocery Bag Incident
Me: “Please don’t jump into the bag. There are eggs.”
Cat: Jumps into the bag.
Me: “I said don’t—”
Cat: Crinkle-crinkle. Egg-crack.
Me: “Why?”
Cat: Blink blink.
Me: “You literally have an entire castle of toys.”
Cat: Sits inside the torn grocery bag with the satisfaction of a queen reclaiming her throne.
Winner: Cat.
Loser: The omelette that never was.
Conversation 4: The Mystery of the Missing Hair Ties
Every few weeks, I wonder where all my hair ties disappear. I buy new ones, and poof — they vanish.
Until one day, while cleaning behind the sofa, I discover a secret stash: 27 hair ties, a bottle cap, and a single sock.
Me: “So you’ve been stealing them all along?”
Cat: Yawn.
Me: “This is why I can’t find anything in the morning!”
Cat: Rolls onto back, showing belly.
She knows I can’t stay mad at her when she does that.
The belly flop is her secret weapon.
Winner: Cat (and her black-market hair tie collection).
Loser: Me (buying my 12th pack this month).
Conversation 5: The Vet Visit
Me: “We’re just going to the vet. It’s routine.”
Cat: Instantly disappears.
Me: “Come on, it’s just a check-up.”
Cat: Somewhere under the couch, plotting my demise.
Me: “You’re fine, you’ll be back home soon.”
Cat: Low growl, sounds like a possessed gremlin.
After 15 minutes, a towel, and minor emotional trauma, she’s in the carrier — glaring at me like I’ve betrayed the feline code of trust.
At the clinic, she suddenly turns into the sweetest angel, purring and rubbing against the vet.
The same vet she scratched last time.
Winner: Cat (because now the vet thinks I’m the overdramatic one).
Loser: Me (and my scratched forearm).
Conversation 6: The Shampoo Standoff
Me: “You smell like you’ve been rolling in dust.”
Cat: Sniffs herself. Walks away.
Me: “It’s bath day. You’ll feel fresh!”
Cat: Narrows eyes. Tail flicks.
Cue the dramatic chase around the house. After 10 minutes, she’s finally in the tub — glaring daggers while I gently massage in AVOPEA Pet Shampoo. When I’m done, she shakes water everywhere and sprints off, dripping and furious.
Two minutes later, she’s perched by the window, licking herself and pretending she chose this cleansing ritual.
Winner: Cat (who now smells amazing and takes full credit).
Loser: Me (and my wet bathroom floor).
Conversation 7: The Existential Stare
Sometimes she just sits there, watching me.
For minutes. Maybe hours.
Me: “What are you thinking about?”
Cat: Stares.
Me: “Do you even like me?”
Cat: Blink. Blink.
Me: “Okay, fine. I love you too.”
Cat: Turns around and walks away.
Winner: Cat, obviously.
Loser: My self-esteem.
Final Thoughts
Living with a cat is like living with a furry philosopher who thinks you’re her unpaid assistant. You’ll never win an argument, never get the last word, and never sit on your laptop again without negotiating terms first.
But somehow — despite the attitude, the chaos, and the shredded couch corners — you wouldn’t trade it for anything.
Because every meow, every blink, and every unexpected cuddle reminds you that love doesn’t need words.
Just a shared look that says, “You may think you’re in charge, but we both know the truth.”
Moral of the story: Cats don’t have owners — they have staff.
And proud members of that staff always make sure their royal highnesses get the best care — from nutrition to grooming — thanks to Enavant Pet Care.