A few months ago, I visited a cat cafe and I thought I’d do a post on my visit. Unlike most other blog posts, however, I think I belong to the minority.
Because I love cats to death, but cat cafes honestly hold zero appeal to me
Read on if you’re curious enough to want to know why.
There. Pictures done. Sorry, don’t remember their names.
Now that we’ve got these out of the way, let me just take some time to share my thoughts.
Before that, I want to preface this by saying that I am seriously a cat lover. I could dedicate an entire post, writing stories about my childhood spent with neighbourhood cats that have come and gone throughout the years. But I won’t. Today I mostly want to just talk about Cat Cafes, and why two visits is more than enough for me.
It took me a really long time to visit one of these. Granted, it’s because we’ve already got a cat of our own at home. So it makes little sense to fork out…I forgot…$15 bucks an hour? Just to visit a cat cafe. But I did, anyway. Cat Cafes being the ‘trend’ and all. Is it still trending? I dunno.
Anyway. Here’s the crux of my thoughts…something that kind of bothered me enough to want to talk about this in a blog post.
And that is…after the visit, despite the overwhelmingly adorable cats there, all I felt after the entire session was to go home and huggle and snuggle and squeeze our cat to death. Seriously, I just couldn’t wait to get home.
I was quite surprised.
Am I a cat lover? Hell yeah.
Am I going to fork out more money for a brief encounter with these pretty felines? Hell no. And the reason to me is…
How do you bond, with a cat that you can barely even stroke for more than 10 seconds on end? I’m sorry, but I just can’t.
Will they recognize me? Maybe, if I spent a bomb on bi-weekly visits, jostling with a dozen other people who want their attention as much as I do.
But they’re definitely not going to walk up to me when I return home, complaining loudly that they’ve not been fed, or that their litter box hasn’t been cleared. They’re not going to bounce across sofas and crouch at corners waiting to pounce on my feet when I appear. They’re not going to step all over me in the morning, poking their cute little noses in my face to see if I’m awake. They’re not going to curl up in bed beside me while I’m typing away on my laptop.
To me, these cats are really nothing more than pretty faces and walking (or lying) around with fancy coats – a one night stand, for lack of a better phrase.
Don’t get me wrong. I’m sure these cats mean the world to someone else. Especially folks who haven’t got cats of their own. And probably the cafe owners, too. I’m sure they’ve also got their own adorable little personalities, if I took the time (and spent the money) to get to know them better.
For me though, right now, that lazy fat tabby cat, who’s rather plain and ordinary, who loves nothing better than to sit in front of the window looking at birds outside, loves to eat chicken and would stare at my food with wistful, longing eyes, who isn’t very brave but who can almost always, very heroically, be counted on to dispose of a huge bug that’s accidentally made its way in…and who doesn’t always come when he’s called, but knows the exact moment when he’s needed the most –
– is the one and only cat for me.