The Mystical Divinity of Unashamed Felinity [In Which The Amateur Gourmet Eats A Cat Treat]

Cats are mysterious, luxurious creatures. They know things that humans can barely understand. To (loosely) quote William S. Burroughs: “Dogs are sentinels; cats are spiritual companions.”

If cats truly are superior, might they not have superior tastes in food?

Tonight I probed this issue deeply, with Lolita as my guide.

What does a superior creature like Lolita enjoy more than anything else? Surely not her Meow Mix. To that she is willfully indifferent. No, Lolita does not come a’running when Meow Mix is served. It is her bag of treats–her Whiska Lickins–that makes her leap for joy.

So I began tonight’s experiment by shaking a bag of Whiska Lickins for Lolita, to which she came a’running:

Notice her erect tail. This is a sign of excitement and profound satisfaction.

I quickly remove a treat from the bag and hold it out. Lolita daintily eats it out of my hand:

Lolita marches away, content.

Now we repeat the experiment with a human subject: Me.

I have Lauren shake the bag. I do not come a’running.

I then have Lauren hold out a treat:

I take it in my mouth, but not daintily. I do not have a tail erection.

To prove that it really is in my mouth, I have Lauren snap a photo:

I then chew, showing a great deal of maturity and professional respect for my task:

I open my mouth to prove that I really chewed:

And then–rather bravely–I swallow:

How was it?

Well, to be honest, it wasn’t HORRIBLE. It tasted like a fishy cracker.

It was the aftertaste that lingered so terribly. I quickly scarfed down some candied walnuts, drank a bucket of water, and ate some more candied walnuts. Still, the taste is there.

CONCLUSION?

Cats are not superior creatures. They eat fishy crackers that linger in your mouth for hours. I’m getting a dog.