Lazy Human Girl

"Despite the occasional apocalyptic shiver, most Americans looked up and decided that it was cloudy with a chance of meatballs." - Jonathan Rosen, The Birds, The New Yorker, Jan 6,2014 issue 

One hundred and one years and four days ago, this planet lost the last of yet another nonhuman species. After Martha died in the Cincinnati Zoo, she was packed in solid ice much like the thousands of chickens and turkeys destined for our kitchen freezers. But (heaven forbid!) Martha was not to be feasted upon-at least not with our tongues. Her skin and internal organs shall now feed our curiosity about the world we inhabit-information about her kin will cater to the needs of the only rational, reasoning animals on Earth. 

Martha's story is a lesson about our inability to reconcile our hunger with the biodiversity that surrounds us. I will not make the terrible blunder of blindly advocating vegetarianism- I realize that our dietary preferences are a complex product of socioeconomic status and evolution. However, imagine yourself standing in front of Martha's uterus, let's say, carefully preserved at the Smithsonian. You are initially driven by an appreciation for the beauty of nature, but perhaps you forget that humans are responsible for the demise of her kin. 

Tell me that you wouldn't feel guilty.  

My cat-sitting stint ends this coming Tuesday, and I'm not exactly sure how I feel about it. I've never had pets of my own, and this three-week adventure was the closest I've ever come to that revered Taylor Swift/old and lonely cat lady life that I used to dream about. 

And now I'm thinking, I kinda just want to be the old and lonely lady. Or Taylor Swift. 

Cats have fleas, cause of annoyance. Woke me up at the crack of dawn, meowing for food-cause of annoyance. They keep pooping outside the litter box. Will not stop rolling around the floor, begging to be petted-can't you see that I'm trying to study!? So. Annoying. 

Just yesterday morning I remember waving the cat food tin in front of "Gray Cat's" face asking him if he was hungry. It's more than just a language barrier that makes this situation sound so peculiar. I hate that he has to depend on me to fill his belly. I dream of the day when I am no longer my father's dependent-when I am a self-sufficient citizen making my own meaningful contributions to society. These cats have to wait for me to wake up, open the fridge, carefully portion out a healthy scoop of Friskies Ocean Whitefish and Tuna Pate-don't they get tired of this stuff? Maybe they want to try the Liver and Chicken dinner...how are they supposed to tell Lazy Human Girl that? Also, isn't it annoying that Lazy Human Girl sleeps in so late while they're over here starving?

I get angry at them when they bite me-"Ya'll are so moody!" I tell them. One minute you're loving the love, the gentle scratches, the firm but tender full-body massages...and then out of nowhere the purring becomes growling and the licking becomes biting.

So manipulative, I think sometimes, when "Black Cat" sleeps at the foot of my bed only to make sure that I am alive and will feed him in the morning.

But why is it that we domesticate animals in the first place? Are we trying to assure ourselves that we know how to love?  

I considered getting a cat, but I've decided against it after these past few weeks. I love these two cats that I've been caring for, and yes, I will miss them...but I cannot for the life of me see how having a pet is any different from visiting the zoo or the Smithsonian Bird Collection. 

I agree that rescuing injured cats and dogs is noble, but is it truly in their best interest to become house pets? 

Please, someone convince me. I could use a nice cat hug after those long dog days.