Resisting the Lure of Cats

This girl says it all really. Except the bit about bow ties. That's a bit weird.

But what is this obsession with cats? It seems to run in the family - certainly my sister and I have both ended up with it. Grandad was always a cat's best friend, our Aunt Tracy has had at least seven feline furballs at a time and Uncle Frank describes himself as 'dotty about cats'. I grew up with a fat moggy called, er, Moggy whose eventual demise upset my mother so much that she refused to ever form another feline bond.

I so enjoyed living with Tufter, the daft old cat who shared my home until his disappearence early in this blog. I was perfectly happy to just provide him with a warm spot on the sofa and sit next to his sleeping (occasionally snoring) little body. And now that he's gone, I leave the back door open whenever I'm home just in case the neighbours' cats fancy popping round.

Tufter in his usual repose

Cats are like the cuckoos of the mammal world. They simulate human babies by mimicking the pitch of their cry and by using their body language to suggest dependence, love and affection. And they've evolved to do this because, falling for it every time, we soppy old humans will provide them with free food and shelter for the whole of their lives. It's manipulation pure and simple, a drain on our resources, a parasite.

And you'd have thought that the modern astute person armed with this knowledge would kick the cuckoo out of the nest, but no. We still fall for it. I am not broody, I have no desire to partner up and have babies (and a good job too - it would put quite a kink in my travel plans), but I do feel that little tugging need to settle down somewhere comfortable and acquire cats.

Who can explain how to get over this?