Random Thoughts on Food and Felines

My cats do not think about food.

If you’ve ever shared your life with a cat (or, more likely, been owned by one), you may wonder if I’ve lost my mind. Cats don’t think about food??? Have I never observed the frenzy that ensues when the vacuum seal on a can of Ocean Whitefish and Tuna is broken, you ask?

Calm down. I didn’t say cats don’t like to eat. I didn’t say a cat would not salivate excessively over a warm mouse on a cold night. What I said was: Cats don’t think about food.

I think about food. All the time. What I will eat at my next meal. What I will not eat at my next meal. What the person next to me will eat that I will want to eat but not be able to eat because if I do eat it I might gain weight. I think a dizzying array of thoughts about food and all things food-related. Frankly, it’s exhausting.

Which is why I envy my cats. You see, when there is food to be had, my cats eat. When there is no food to be had, my cats sleep. Or play. Or poop. If it’s Saturday morning and I happen to get up late, they will remind me that breakfast time is past due, but it’s more a matter of being perturbed about the disruption in their routine than anything else. There is none of the tortured angst, the endlessly excruciating rumination, the exquisite agony that drives me bonkers sometimes. The laid-back, laissez faire approach that my cats exhibit towards eating makes me wonder if they might not have something to teach me about my relationship with food.  In other words:

“Everything I need to know about food I learned from my cats.”

Food is tasty. (Particularly bird heads. Mm, Mm, Good!)

Food is fun. (Play with your food… especially when it tries to run away!)

Food is good. (Eat, drink and be merry, for tomorrow we will… sleep.)

Food is simple. (You eat, you barf, you find a sunny spot to snooze.)

If only I could empty my head of all the neurotic cobwebs that I’ve spun around food and eat like a cat! Life would be so uncomplicated. When I’ve eaten too much, instead of beating myself up, I could just take a nap. When I’ve eaten something I shouldn’t, instead of beating myself up, I could just chase my tail. When I’ve let myself be intimidated once again into eating something I didn’t want, instead of beating myself up, I could just lick my toes. To translate this into human terms, I could just acknowledge what happened, pick myself up and move forward with new resolve.

I’m sure this is not as easy as it sounds. But, hey, it’s food for thought.