One thing you’ve got to realize about me is that my childhood was one of extraordinary privilege. I had canned tuna whenever I wanted it; There was a seemingly unlimited amount of space to run around in; I was the only kitten in the habitat. However, one of the things that I’m discovering that I took for granted in the old place was hardwood flooring.
I know, it sounds silly, especially for a cat. Normally, I’d say that I don’t give a rat’s ass about what the floor is made of…that is a uniquely human concern, along with such things as the elusive “Bigfoot,” or the even more mythical “Mideast Peace.” Certainly the composition of the floor is beneath a cat’s concern, unless of course the floor is becoming water. But that almost never happens.
As mundane as floor materials are, I have discovered one way in which the question seems to impact my life. As I said before, the floors of my childhood are made of wood. It would seem that the floors of my adolescence and early adulthood are to be made of carpet, and a strange shiny material that the Human calls “linoleum.” Well, there’s a really important difference between wood and carpet – carpet absorbs things. When I was little, it never seemed to do more than mildly annoy the human when I would clear the hair our of my throat, which he referred to as “yakking up a hairball.” Now, though, if I’m standing on the carpet and I give the human any indication that said “yakking” might possibly ensue, then he makes some very…interesting noises. I’m also fairly certain that my life has been threatened on more than one occasion.
I don’t think that I have much say in the matter, but if I have to change habitats again, I want nothing to do with carpet. Absorbency is a valuable quality in towels and whatnot, but I’m afraid of it in my floor.
