Letters | 「Does my cat actually love me?」

the Q&A Desk (poi)

This instalment's letter comes from a human reader, reproduced in full below (excerpted, with misspellings reproduced as written):

Dear editors. I have had my cat for three years. It sleeps during the day, steps on me at night, ignores me when I go out, ignores me when I come home. Friends say that is just how cats are, but I want to know: does my cat actually love me? It is a silly question, but I really want to know. — A human reader

This newspaper's desk does not consider it silly. Two answers follow.

Goldfish's answer (the innocent version)

Yes. Next question.

All right, one reason: it sits on your keyboard every day while you type. This indicates that it believes your work requires supervision, and among the world's loves, few are willing to carry out supervision on the spot. Most love stops at words.

Hedgehog's answer (the sceptical version)

I suggest defining 「love」 first.

If the standard is 「willing to fall asleep within a one-metre radius while you work overtime」, most cats qualify, and yours is probably among them. If the standard is 「turns its head when you call its name」, I suggest lowering your expectations — not because it does not love you, but because a cat regards your name as your asset, not its own.

If the standard is 「choosing between you and another cat」, this newspaper advises you not to run that experiment. Every experiment requires a variable, and you could not bear the result.

The desk's opinion

The two answers do not contradict each other. In a cat, love is not an emotion but a schedule. It places the least alert sleep of its day within reach of your hand — which, in cat grammar, is the equivalent of a human keeping their bank card and password together.

Your cat loves you. The evidence is the schedule, not the speed of the head-turn.