You know, I've had my damn cat for almost fourteen years now. And it has taken me that long to finally admit that he is almost completely and totally worthless.
Bentley has two purposes: amusement, and comfort. He can make me laugh, or give me snuggles. But he will do neither of these things on command, so really, again I return to useless.
I came to this realization as I sat in random midday LA traffic on my way back from yoga, calculating how long it would take me to get back to the office post-shower. Not that anyone pays any attention to the length of my yoga lunches as far as I'm aware, but I do try not to take advantage of them, and due to the new obnoxious parking system at my studio, I was a few minutes behind my usual schedule.
And my shower takes foreeeevvveeeer to heat up.
If only Mr. Tree could turn it on for me, so when I arrive home the water would already be all nice and steamy. But no, his lack of opposable thumbs or give-a-shits makes that pretty impossible.
Other Ways Bentley Could Be Useful
*Be a dog, so I could take him on walks and use him to pick up men.
*Clean his own litter box, or learn to use the toilet.
*Instead of laying in the middle of my pile of warm clean sheets, he could...make the bed.
*Instead of tangling himself in my feet while I'm cooking, he could...help?
*Instead of leaning on my hand whenever I'm trying to write, he could learn to type and take dictation.
*He could also learn to give a foot massage. I mean, he knows how to knead the couch, or a pillow, or my belly, how much harder is a massage?
*He could unpack my Vegas suitcase so I don't have to do it when I get home.
*Or do some laundry.
*Or put away the clean dishes that have clogged up my sink for a week.
*Or do anything besides laying there looking so cute.