Kitty Count: 2
Someone done gone to that Limey state of Enk-lund for the semester. This same someone had two pets of the feline variety that needed tending to until the end of the almanacable year. Another someone needed to administer the tending. This most recently mentioned someone is me.
Mr. Gibbs and Gracey are two horrible creatures from (according to their breed) Siam. They avoid me like I was growing buboes all over my face. They keep me awake at night, they freak me out by hidding behind my George Foreman grill, and they show zero appreciation for the services I provide. These things and more make them the perfect cats.
I like a pet who can be a jerk. I like a pet who wants me around as much as I want it around. It's strange that we all search for a relationship in this world that reciprocates love, but what about hate? Would a relationship of mutual and equal committment that is based on hate rather than love be any less fulfilling? Are we really searching for love, or is a symbiotic existence all we really need?
Perhaps love can be born through hate. I still feed the cats. I am keeping them around. I do nothing to torment them asside from laughing while they dash about my living room chasing the elusive red dot from a laser pointer. Watching them fail brings me joy. Executing my hatred is what I've come to love. It's become a game, it's never truly been hate. It's a friendly rivalry; who can bother who more. This is the game I've been searching for my whole life...
And I love it.
Mr. Gibbs and Gracey are two horrible creatures from (according to their breed) Siam. They avoid me like I was growing buboes all over my face. They keep me awake at night, they freak me out by hidding behind my George Foreman grill, and they show zero appreciation for the services I provide. These things and more make them the perfect cats.
I like a pet who can be a jerk. I like a pet who wants me around as much as I want it around. It's strange that we all search for a relationship in this world that reciprocates love, but what about hate? Would a relationship of mutual and equal committment that is based on hate rather than love be any less fulfilling? Are we really searching for love, or is a symbiotic existence all we really need?
Perhaps love can be born through hate. I still feed the cats. I am keeping them around. I do nothing to torment them asside from laughing while they dash about my living room chasing the elusive red dot from a laser pointer. Watching them fail brings me joy. Executing my hatred is what I've come to love. It's become a game, it's never truly been hate. It's a friendly rivalry; who can bother who more. This is the game I've been searching for my whole life...
And I love it.