• Not feeling like getting out of bed? No problem. At least one cat is always glad to justify my abject laziness by cuddling with me, purring gently for hours.
• I like to randomly bust in on them while they are sleeping or licking their butts or indulging in other feline activities and say, “You guys are behaving like ANIMALS!” Then I laugh when they look confused. Then I pet them. I’m also partial to using a 1930s Chicago movie cop voice: “Scuttlebutt around the precinct has it you’re a kitty, see?” With cats in the house, this behavior makes me charmingly eccentric. Without them, it would make me diagnosable.
• When I am startled by a weird noise upstairs, I can tell myself it’s the cats messing around rather than freak out that a foamy-mouthed madman has just bashed his way into my apartment to axe me into quivering meat cubes.
• They like to sleep like this:
One is cuddling with my jammies, the other is sleeping in the wreckage of a fuzzy blanket. This makes the fact that I never make my bed a public service. Seriously, if you’re looking for ways to vindicate your natural tendencies toward inertia, you can’t do better than get a couple of cats.