A cat's perspective

A CAT’S PERSPECTIVE
Looking after a cat can be a whole lot of work. It means putting food and water out twice or three times some days. That depends on how I feel. It means letting me out when I want to go out, and letting me back in when I'm ready to come in. It means going out to look for me when you haven't seen or heard me for a while. It means caring for me.
“And in return, what do you get?”
“ Well, you get me, Ginger.”
I'm real nice to stroke and to have brushing past your legs as you wash the dishes. I do things that amuse you; I go missing for an hour, and then when you've all but given up on me, I pop my head out from the bottom of the wardrobe where I've been sleeping. You hear something moving, and look up to see me doing my balancing act on the top of the door. You jump up as if I'm about to leap off a cliff or something, so I leap on you instead and make you fall over and knock your coffee over.
But most of all, I'm just there, somebody, something else. My folks talk to me, but I don't say anything. They tell me their secrets, their hopes and their fears, and I keep them safe.