A Journey into the Mind of an Average Housecat

It was 3 A.M. The sun would not be peeking over the horizon for several more hours and all was quiet, save for the distant hum of traffic on highway 54. I was asleep and dreaming of being a pirate on a ship with Johnny Depp. When Jessie entered the room I was right in the middle of a valiant sword fight.

Jessie had learned to open the door soundlessly with his paws, and I was oblivious to his entry. Stealthy as a cat burglar, he made his way in, jumped gracefully onto the bed, and climbed up my right leg. I stirred, half-aware of his presence. He leaned down and sniffed at my nose until I opened my eyes.

I sensed the green cat eyes, surrounded by a ruff of black fur, staring down at me in the dim light. Not wanting to leave my pirate dream, I closed my eyes again and pretended to sleep. Jessie had other ideas.

One paw on my cheek, claws extended, he dug in. The claws were like little fish hooks sinking into me and I cried out from the jolt of pain. This startled him enough so that he rose and withdrew his paw from my face. For a moment he paused as if mystified at my reaction, and then he turned his back to me. He slapped his bushy tail over my eyes and-I swear this is true-he sighed.

In the silence that followed, I wondered what he was thinking right at that moment. It would be easy to imagine things I would like to believe he is thinking,
But what is he really thinking?

I decided to try to put aside my presumptions and objectively ask Jessie: What were you thinking tonight before you came in here and what are you thinking now?

Here is his answer, translated to the best of my ability:

The house was quiet except for a mouse scratching inside the wall near the front door. The other cats were asleep but I wasn't tired and I was getting hungry and bored. I explored the kitchen to see if there were any morsels of food around but I couldn't find any. I sniffed the base of the refrigerator. Earlier I had noticed a piece of dried spaghetti there. It had smelled stale but I decided to investigate it again. It still smelled stale. I've a really good sense of smell-In fact a cat's olfactory ability is fourteen times better than a human's. I can sure tell a piece of stale spaghetti.

I gave up on finding anything good to eat and went to the cat dish for a snack of the dried kibble. That is when I heard the terrible sounds; the first was a rumbling sound like a Ford pickup with a tired engine and it was followed by a high-pitched drawn-out squeak. The latter sounded a lot like a mouse sounds when it is caught beneath my paw. I could tell immediately that the noises were coming from the bedroom and I rushed to the door and made my way in.

When I jumped up onto the bed the noises abruptly stopped. I walked up the human's leg and sniffed her face to make sure she was still breathing. The sounds had come from her nose area but I sniffed there and everything seemed to be okay-everything had a normal scent (by normal I mean her face smelled like soap residue and dead skin cells).

I leaned closer to reassure myself that the human was okay, and also to get a better look of her. At that point she opened her eyes, which pleased me tremendously. Overwhelmed by sudden feelings of deep affection, I touched
her face with my paw in a gesture of great love and blessing. I extended my claws in an even more profound gesture of blessing, but rather than purr her
love for me, she yowled quite unappreciatively.

Disappointed by her behavior, I turned around and, in an attempt to calm her,
I displayed my hindquarters to her in the hopes that she would catch my scent and be reassured that it was I, Jessie, her loving cat companion.

It is not always easy being a cat among humans. Human reactions can be difficult to foresee. What are considered the deepest displays of love in cat culture are often the very acts that seem to displease humans. I do my best to make adjustments, but humans are odd creatures. They are hard to figure out and even harder to please sometimes.