I have two cats, and it hasn’t been long since I started raising them—less than a month. At first, I only had one, a Chinese domestic cat, which I adopted when it was just over three months old. I felt it was lonely and needed companionship, so I bought a British Shorthair Blue and White kitten, about two months old, to keep it company.
The difference in their personalities is quite obvious. The domestic cat is very lively, climbing up and down the cage like a squirrel, and it loves to meow. Some people might criticize me for keeping them in a cage, thinking it’s inhumane. Let me explain why I chose to raise cats this way. I’m someone who loves furry animals, and dogs are my favorite.
However, I get home from work every day around 10 PM, completely exhausted. If I had a dog, it would likely feel even lonelier, and I wouldn’t have the energy to walk it. So, I settled for cats instead. When I was a child, my family also had a cat that would jump onto my lap and sleep while I did my homework. Honestly, as a 30-year-old man, I’ve been teased for raising cats, even by my family, who think cats are more suited for women. But I don’t care what others say—I like them, and that’s what matters.
Cats, in comparison, can be much less demanding, and this has proven true. Although the domestic cat likes to meow, it can sleep peacefully all day when I’m not home. However, as soon as it knows I’m home, it starts meowing. I bought a full set of equipment: a cage, litter box, automatic water and food dispensers, a bed, a scratching post, toys, and more.
The cat can do everything it needs inside the cage, and I specifically bought the largest cage to make it more comfortable. I figured that if I didn’t keep it in a cage, I would have a lot more trouble. Despite this, I still had an incident on the first day I brought the little yellow cat home. After giving it a bath, I let it play in the room, and it jumped onto the bed. Based on my childhood experience, I knew it was likely about to relieve itself, so I rushed over to pick it up. But it was too late—there were already five or six warm droppings and a puddle of liquid on the quilt… The speed at which it did this would make anyone suffering from constipation envious! After that, I never dared to let it play in the room again. A few days later, I let it roam freely in the living room, and it quickly peed on the sofa…
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