Tasha Dhanraj contrasts and compares a cat’s life

My cat, Buffy, just had one of his eyes removed. After months of antibiotics to deal with an injury and infection that appeared to be completely destroying it, we resigned to the fact that he needed an operation to have it removed. He is now a cyclops kitty, or a pirate cat – whichever you prefer. Due to this, we’ve been given strict instructions to keep him in the house for a few weeks. This has given us a bond deeper than the usual friendship seen between cat and owner.
As I work from home, we now spend all day together. I don’t think Buffy quite appreciates the exploration into the depths of human emotion that is communicated through The Jeremy Kyle Show, but for the most part he is happy to just sit there and watch it… although there was one episode in which a woman cheated on her husband, which he clearly found so abhorrent he felt the need to leave the room.
The main difference between Buffy and I is that he is desperate to leave the house. Whenever a window is ajar a few inches, he tries to push his head through. Whenever a door is opened, he makes a bolt for it. I swear, earlier in the week I saw him staring down the toilet as if wondering whether that could be an escape chute.
I have been working at home for months now and my inability to motivate myself to leave the house has been astounding. Meanwhile, my pirate cat has just undergone a serious operation and is scratching at the walls trying to be outside. He’s been so desperate to go outside that he’s started “playfully” hunting our other cats.

“How has a cat got a better life ethic than me?”

Am I lazy or am I just human? I’ve become a hermit. It’s even showing in what I’ve been choosing to do with my time. I’ve started baking. I’ve started just allowing instructions from other people in cookbooks to dictate what I do, instead of actually doing something creative. Or maybe, I’m just doing what anyone would do. People long for days to just slouch on the sofa. Maybe I’m in fact living the dream by my entire life becoming an extended advert for slankets.
As much as I try to convince myself that I find my life fulfilling through watching the reruns of The Gilmore Girls every day, I can’t escape the feeling that my cats are having more fun than me.