‘Cats are the bad boyfriends of the animal world’: Frances Whiting

I’ve had a few cats in my lifetime – and a few bad boyfriends – and they behave in exactly the same way. Someone should do a study into this, possibly David Attenborough, writes Frances Whiting.

My friend Lucas is intimidated by his flatmate, Penelope.

“She’s so on again, off again”, he told me the other day when I dropped over for a coffee.

“Sometimes I’ll walk into the room and she’ll act like she’s really happy to see me, but other times, she just ignores me and sometimes” – his voice dropped to a whisper – “when I walk in, she walks out.”

“Where is she now”? I whispered back, looking around the flat, now also inexplicably intimidated by Penelope, whom I had never met. I felt intimidated in solidarity, by the way, because this is what good friends do – mirror exactly what their friend is feeling, even if we don’t know what they are talking about.

Lucas looked at me, miserably. “I don’t know,” he said. “I never do, sometimes I’ll just turn around and she’ll be there, it’s terrifying.”

“Well,” I said, “I don’t like to say I told you so (I do actually) but that’s what happens when you get a cat.”

Frances Whiting on why cats are the bad boyfriends of the animal world.

Also if you name that cat Penelope, possibly the world’s most intimidating female name, which is why they all try to hide it by shortening it to Penny.

But back to cats, who I believe are the bad boyfriends of the animal world.

Now, I’ve had a few cats in my lifetime – and a few bad boyfriends – and they behave in exactly the same way. Someone should do a study into this, possibly David Attenborough. Cats/bad boyfriends act like they couldn’t care less if you stay or leave, they don’t notice all the nice things you do for them, and if they do notice, and give you some small hint of affection – a quick cheek rub, a pat of the leg – you in turn, will be disproportionately grateful: “Oh you do like me, Mr Wiggles/Richard!”

When you go away for a few days – or a year – when you return, they will look at you with an expression that says: “Oh, it’s you. Have you been somewhere? I didn’t realise you’d gone. Did you bring me anything back?”

Now dogs, in contrast, are like the boyfriends in your youth that all your friends said were “too nice”.

Wilson, our golden retriever, springs to mind. Even as I write this, he is at my feet gazing at me with an expression of undying devotion – or insatiable hunger, it could go either way with retrievers, to be honest.

Frances Whiting on the dog vs. cat debate. Pics Tara Croser.

When I enter a room, Wilson does a few giddy run-arounds, then comes to a halt at my feet with an expression that says: “Oh! It really is you! I can hardly believe it! When you left I was so worried you wouldn’t come back, but here you are. Right beside me, where you belong!”

“Wilson,” I’ll say, “I just went into the kitchen for two seconds.”

When I leave for work, he lies down at the front of our house that has a glass door, so I can see him crying. Or at least pressing his nose against the glass. He’s a little needy.

The point is, would a cat do that?

Indeed, thinking about my friend Lucas’s current living situation, Would a cat do that in a flat? Imagine that.

And yes, I do realise I’ve turned into Dr Seuss, but you see my point.

Originally published as ‘Cats are the bad boyfriends of the animal world’: Frances Whiting