I've been a "Cat Person" ever since a stray followed me home one day when I was five or so. Since then, except for a few years while in law school I've always had at least one cat in my life.
In the Atlantic Daily for today, October 4, I read a nice article by another Cat Person, Katherine J. Wu, and I'll quote from it here:
I see many reasons to favor the feline. Part of it has to be their luxurious fur; their super-silent, bean-padded paws; their fluid-like flexibility. Their vertically contracting pupils, their scritchy-scratchy tongues, their pleasantly pointy ears. Their love for laser pointers, their fear of cucumbers, their affinity for boxes. I’m also probably lured in by cats’ mysterious, melodic purrs—a form of communication that most other animals can’t mimic and that humans struggle to parse. And I’m definitely gobsmacked by their ability to right themselves within a second or two of falling and so often survive, even when the plunge is many stories high.
If I’m being completely honest, maybe it’s the feline personality that’s my personal catnip. My cats are just as cuddly as any dog I’ve ever had—probably more. They’re affectionate and personable; they come running when we call; they greet us at the door. And every cat I’ve met has been such a distinct individual, such a character: bursting with strong opinions, clear-cut preferences, bizarre and memorable quirks. And those traits are steadfast. Whether they’re scared, happy, suspicious, or confused, Calvin and Hobbes [the author's cats] are always Calvin and Hobbes. I get that cats can sometimes be contrarian. I get that their outer shell can sometimes be tough to crack. But for me, that makes them all the more fascinating. Their trust and affection is hard-won. So when it’s earned, it feels that much more meaningful.
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