Yes, I do realize I talk about my cats a lot on my blog. I work from home, in a new state, so, needless to say, I don’t really get out much and the cats are my constant companions. With that said, I have noticed a change in the cat’s attitude towards me since we moved here and I no longer go into the office for work:

The cats don’t appreciate me anyone.

“Why Anne,” you, the reader, mockingly says. “They’re cats. They don’t appreciate anyone!”

True enough, my dear reader. On the ungrateful meter, I think they rank high up there. Sure, Blue appreciates that I have hands to pet him, but Brutus is so thoroughly put upon when I so much as look at him, it really makes you wonder what you’re use is, other then to be their spare food supply when the Apocalypse comes. 

How have I noticed the cats really losing respect for me and treating me with more distain then they did in Phoenix? Well, for one, they won’t give me the time of day anymore. Again, I know, they’re cats, but they used to at least pretend like they liked me, in some small regard. Brutus would get so excited when I’d get home from school or work; he’d rub his body against anything and everything while pretending that “Oh, you’re home? I just felt the need to rub all over and stretch out in this slut-like matter… It’s my everyday practice, woman, around this time, so don’t think you’re special.” Brutus used to cuddle, too, with me at night (PURELY AGAINST HIS WILL! It’s cold at night and he needed something warm to cuddle with).

Now that I’m home all the time, however, they tend to spend their days either passed out on the floor near my desk, or in the other room entirely, my human stench too much for their superior genes. I’ll get their interest when, oh say, I’m on a conference call. Then it’s time to crack out, and see how much shit in the apartment they can break while chasing each other. And, of course, every time I eat, one or both of them is shoving their head into my bowl or plate, trying to smell what I’m eating and, even, grabbing it with their paw and dragging it towards them (I’m looking at you Blue).

Sure, this is semi-normal cat behavior, them ignoring me and being completely indifferent to my existence. When I really notice a difference is when Mack gets home from work: the cats can’t get enough of me and, occasionally, Mack. Blue gets really excited when Mack gets home. When I say really excited I mean REALLY excited since oh my golly, he’s here to PET ME. Although it’s really charming when Blue lifts his paw up in his desire to have you pet him, it is also scary when your boyfriend antagonizes the cat and decides to pet your leg until said cat bites in jealousy that the pets aren’t directed at him. And Brutus? Well, he’s a spiteful little shit who only wants to rub against Mack since Mack doesn’t want cat hair on his work clothes. I think Brutus’ idea of the height of pleasure would be to get into our closet, so he can rub his furry body (and ass) all over Mack’s stuff.

All I’m asking for is for you cats to throw me a bone (or the cat equivalent) and at least pretend to occasionally like having me around the house. When I call and seek you out for pets, don’t act so thoroughly put upon by the sheer magnitude and annoyance of me petting you. Let’s learn to respect each other, as we share this work environment. I’ll let you take care of your business while I take care of my business, and in exchange we can respect each other and be civil, at least. 

Go ahead.  Relax.  Drop your professional demeanor, cats, and let’s make this a relaxed, fun, and cool place to work.