"No wonder cats love you…" My husband's casual but profound remark

When you live with cats, who think and act differently from humans, you often find yourself wanting to say, "Why?!" or "Just do it this way!" There are so many times we feel like pointing out their quirks. However, my husband accepts our beloved cats as they are and respects their will. That's why cats like him.

This time, I'd like to introduce some of my husband's memorable cat-loving quotes that resonated with me, making me think, "That's such a wonderful thing to say..." Please feel free to use them!

"However you want to use it is the right way for you."

This is a gem I heard when we gave our three beloved cats a dome-shaped cat bed. As is often the case with cats, our cats didn't go inside; instead, they squashed the cat bed and used it flat... So, I once jokingly complained to my husband, "They're not using it correctly!"

Then, my husband chuckled and said, "I see. But maybe going inside is just how humans think it should be used. From a cat's perspective, perhaps flattening it and using it that way is more comfortable."

This was a perspective I hadn't considered, and I was genuinely impressed, thinking, "He's right..."

No matter how much humans design products with cats in mind, from a cat's point of view, what they consider the "correct" way to use something might be different. I realized that telling a cat, "You're using it wrong," might just be imposing our human-centric "right" way on them.

My husband, who has a researcher's disposition, got excited and said, "If we collect data on how cats use things, we might discover what cats truly consider the right way." He gently stroked our cat sleeping on the cat bed and whispered, "However you want to use it is the right way for you."

At that moment, a halo appeared around them! For an ordinary person like me, it was too dazzling to approach.

"You did great being a cat today."

Occasionally, my husband and I have dinner together on weekdays, and there's a routine where if I say, "Work was tiring~," he praises me with, "You worked hard! You're great!"

During one of these unique and heartwarming routines, I once remarked, "While I was working, the cats were just sleeping. I'm so jealous~, I wish I could be a cat!"

Then my husband said, "Being a cat is probably hard work too," as he gently stroked the cat beside him. He then started praising the cat, saying, "You did great being a cat today! You worked hard."

I interjected with a joke about our cat Jiji, who looks like a raccoon dog, saying, "Well, there's one that might not actually be a cat (laughs)," and then I deeply pondered how wonderful and heartwarming the mysterious phrase "cats work hard at being cats" was.

If I could be reborn as a cat in my next life, I'd want to live with someone who would praise me by saying, "You did great being a cat today."

"Humans don't like it either when someone suddenly gets too close."

Kōtarō, our tabby cat, was the most wary of our cats and was only attached to me. When he first met my husband, he performed his secret technique, "the scratch," and successfully made my husband bleed.

Even after they started living together, their distance didn't close easily. Kōtarō would steal the mackerel in miso that was left on the table, or stick his paws into the curry, and the two had various skirmishes.

When my husband tried to touch him, Kōtarō would meow, "Nipā! (Stop!)," and refuse. If he got close, Kōtarō would stare intensely at his face and go into alert mode.

Seeing this, my husband reflected, "You're right. Humans don't like it either when someone suddenly gets too close." After that, he became even more diligent about "not touching first" and "gently stroking only when the cat approaches."

Two and a half years have passed since then. Kōtarō no longer meows when my husband touches him, and he no longer takes the mackerel in miso without permission. I'm sure Kōtarō now considers my husband part of the family.

The way to bridge the distance with a cat is no different from with a human. In both cases, things won't work out if you just impose your feelings unilaterally. I feel like I learned such a lesson from how my husband and Kōtarō's bond developed.

"But you have your own good qualities."

It's a common experience for cat owners to encounter people who light up and exclaim, "You have cats!" when repair technicians or other service people visit. Our household has had such experiences several times, but once, there was a service person who I found very rude.

The two technicians who came saw our cats and were surprised, saying, "You have three cats!" and then asked, "Are they pedigreed?"

When I replied, "One is pedigreed, but the others are mixed breeds," the technicians pointed to our ginger cat, Leo, and said, "This one must be pedigreed, right? He's so beautiful!"

Then I introduced Jiji, saying, "No, this one is pedigreed. He's a Munchkin with short legs." The technicians then laughed and said, "What?! This one...? (laughs) The other one is so much prettier!"

I'm sure the technicians meant no harm and were just making casual conversation. But I felt sad, as if Jiji was implicitly called "not beautiful." I hated the thought that Jiji might have heard those words.

One day, I casually mentioned this old story, which I had never fully processed, to my husband. Just as one of our everyday chats.

Then, my husband said, "It's fine! Jiji has his own good qualities!" He gently stroked Jiji, who was nearby. He started telling Jiji, "You have your own good qualities, you know."

At that moment, it wasn't just Jiji's heart that was saved. I felt as if the me from back then, who felt my beloved and cute cat had been disparaged, had also been gently stroked, and I almost cried.

"Just one more time, please come home."

These words came from my husband around the New Year, when Jiji was hovering between life and death. A tumor-like growth had bled, and Jiji became hypothermic, in a critical state where the night was the turning point.

When I visited Jiji in the oxygen chamber, bracing myself for not seeing him tomorrow, I cried, saying, "I love you" and "Let's go home." My husband said, "Just one more time, please come home."

Just one more time. After returning home, my husband quietly began to explain the feelings he put into those words.

"Given his age, he might not live much longer. I'm prepared for that. That's why I just wanted him to come home one more time."

I want him to live a long life. I want to be with him much longer. When a beloved cat's life is in danger, owners tend to wish for that. I'm that kind of person; even when I heard Jiji might not make it through the day, I wished for "long" and "forever."

But my husband's wish was a realistic and humble "just one more time." It wasn't a wish I would have come up with, but tears flowed as I realized how warm and heartfelt it was.

Because it was so endearing. To put so much love into a slightly brave statement like "just one more time." It was a phrase typical of my husband, who lost his mother in middle school and had to support himself.

Although they speak different languages, cats surely understand human words. That's why I want to carefully consider what words I say to my cats and engage with them every day. Recently, there have been many columns about illnesses, so I hope this column serves as a comforting break.