The Things My Cat Taught Me About Being Human

So, after what felt like accumulating good karmic points over a million years and an equally long wait, in July 2025, I became a proud pet parent. Which is still up for debate in my house. My mother, especially, refuses to identify as a grandmother to a cat. Some roles, it seems, are harder to accept than others. We’ll let her process it till she comes around. 

How we got Muffin is a story for another day, one with enough ups and downs to qualify as a roller coaster, but life with him since then has been quite and quietly transformative.
Some of what he’s taught me is technically only cat-specific. But most of it feels like it was always meant to be learned anyway. There’s a part of me that thought I was raising a cat. Turns out, he’s been raising me a little too. So, let’s begin, shall we?

Haters will say it's AI.

1. You will be misunderstood by some, and loved by some. And maybe both are okay.

Contentment that goes both ways. 

It still bothers (I think the record should mention that "bother" is an understatement) me when people say cats are aloof, or arrogant, or unlovable. 

But what bothers me the most is how Muffin, on the other hand, seems entirely unbothered by it. This part for me is still WIP, clearly. 

He walks into my path at least a hundred times a day, I must have accrued so much misfortune to befall me, don’t you think? Yet none of it lingers as annoyance or superstition. Because just as quickly, there’s the slow blink.

If you don’t know, that’s how cats say 'I love you.' It’s just that they don’t give it away freely. It’s intentional. Selective. But us humans are doomed- cursed, even- with wanting loud declarations of love and affection, which surpasses actions some times. 

I keep coming back to this for that is the lesson here: Maybe it’s okay if not everyone chooses you. Maybe love was never meant to be democratic. So, if you want to find any comfort here it’s that you get to decide where your softness goes.

(Muffin would also argue that being mildly feared is a close second.)

2. Not every part of you is for everyone

Yep, that's what comfort zone looks like.

Cats don’t show their bellies to just anyone.

They observe first. From a distance. They sniff, they circle, they take their time deciding whether you’re safe enough to witness their most unguarded selves. Trust me you are going to feel supremely disliked before you begin to realise that you are actually loved.

It took Muffin months before he casually flopped onto the floor in front of us like he had nothing to protect.

And when he did, it didn’t feel normal. It felt earned. It’s indescribable how it feels when he’s sitting across the room just looking at me, or when he greets me after I’m back from work by rubbing his head on my shin, or when I feel his gentle weight on my blanket in the middle of the night. 

In humans, we’d be quick to label this as hesitation, or even paranoia. But how about it being just self-preservation with dignity: Maybe not every version of you needs to be accessible. Maybe some parts of you are meant to be discovered slowly. Maybe that’s when you’ll know you truly belong. 

3. If something feels off, tend to it immediately

Purrito yourself when things seem tough.

Cats don’t negotiate with discomfort. Oh no, sir.

The moment something feels wrong, whether it is stress, irritation, or restlessness, they respond. They scratch, they retreat, they regulate.

They don’t carry it into the next hour. Or the next conversation. Or the next day. Pfft, can you imagine living like that? ...I can. 

So, I wonder what it would look like if we did the same. Instead of overriding our internal alarms, or intellectualising them into silence, what if we simply responded?

Not dramatically. Just… honestly: Maybe then we'll finally understand the true meaning of self-care extends beyond your 12 step skincare routine.

4. Slowing down is not optional

"unbothered. moisturised. happy. in my lane. focused. flourishing."

There are parts of the day where Muffin just sits by the window and watches.

Birds passing by. Leaves shifting. Light changing. The true embodiment of observing waqt ko guzarte? 

Nothing urgent is happening. And yet, everything is. It’s a kind of stillness that doesn’t feel empty. It feels attentive. Muffin says ASAP is for As Slow As Possible. 

And it makes me wonder how often we move through our days without ever really being in them. 

Maybe you can’t keep moving endlessly or mindlessly. Not without first learning how to pause. Pausing, human, is priority.

5. Be unabashed about your needs

Cannot be ignored.

Cats are not as quiet as we make them out to be.

If they’re hungry, they’ll tell you.

If they’re uncomfortable, they’ll tell you.

If they’re bored, they’ll absolutely tell you.

The meow, interestingly, isn’t even something they use with each other. It’s something they developed just to communicate with humans. Somehow, despite having the gift of language for communication we still don’t maximise it to its fullest. Strange, no?

Here it means that if a cat is vocalising, it’s not just making noise. It’s trusting that it will be heard.

And there’s something quietly powerful about that: Maybe not shrinking your needs into something more palatable. Not convincing yourself that it’s “not a big deal.” 

Just… allowing yourself to take up that space. I literally have goosebumps on my hand right now. 

Reader, I didn’t expect to learn about boundaries, regulation, and selective affection from a creature who regularly knocks things off tables or naps when he’s not doing that for sport.

But here we are.

If you’ve ever been loved by something that doesn’t speak your language, you probably understand this already.

In case you’re wondering, Muffin does freelance as a life coach. We can negotiate the cost of treats on mail. :)