My cat died last month. This is actually the first time in my entire life I haven’t had a cat. I’m starting to realize how much of a difference that makes.

Sure, cats are self-centered assholes who are perfectly happy to carry on doing their own thing as long as they have a source of food and water. That’s why they’re the preferred pet of sociopaths and malcontents, while dogs—of which I have two—are the preferred pet of well-adjusted, happy people.

But I actually think they’re higher maintenance than dogs.

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Yesterday I was soldering and as I was waiting for the iron to cool down, I instinctively went to find a place I could keep it, until I realized that I didn’t have a cat that would knock it on the floor a burn a hole through my house. There was something so freeing about being able to say “fuck it, this is staying on the table.”

Similarly, I can leave sharp objects on the table without worrying about them “accidentally” getting nudged off the side and onto my dog’s head.

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At dinner, I don’t have something trying to eat off of my plate.

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I’m very allergic to cats, and this is the first time in my life that I’ve been mostly allergy free.

I don’t have to carry litter from the store, or lift heavy litter boxes.

I miss my cat.