37. Patronize a cat.

Maybe it’s suffering from extreme boredom. The thing sits around your house all day, sleeping, licking itself, occasionally getting up to decorate your floor with a hairball or two. It’s not being challenged. It needs some recreation. It needs some mental stimulation.

It needs a cheap plastic toy.

You dangle the colorful device in front of the cat’s uninterested face, making high-pitched noises that would be insulting even to a newborn. You whip the tasseled string around the room, running through the house, dragging it across the floor, attempting to fool the cat into thinking that a flamboyant, sparkly blue mouse is terrorizing the kitchen. The cat stares back as if you’ve lost your damn mind.

Undaunted, you continue to foist amusement upon the indifferent feline, shouting “Jump! JUMP!” in a moronically goofy voice. Such demands go unnoticed by the cat, who sits down and turns whatever small amount of attention it possesses to grooming its crotchal region. This is unacceptable. No one is allowed to devote more time to crotchal grooming than you.

You pick the cat up and set it back into a standing position. The mood in the room has now gone from apathetic ennui to agitated annoyance. You’re unable to detect such a change, however, screeching as loudly as you are and hurling the toy once again into the cat’s now narrowed eyes. It would seem as though your efforts are paying off, though, as it starts to get up on its hind legs. It’s ready! It’s ready to play!

Or, in a more accurate sense, ready to claw your eyes out. A lifetime of concentrated hatred, all culminating in one massive scratchfest. The furry ball of fury strikes so quickly you don’t even see it. All you know is that one minute, you’re calling it a “smoopy wittle cuddle pants”, and the next, you’re bleeding from ten different places.

So if you want to suck at life, patronize a cat. It already knows that it’s better than you. When are you going to get with the program?

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