I think my cat has a serious case of existential dread. He just lies on his bench all day, staring out the window, meowing occasionally and passionlessly from time to time.
Once in a while he'll wander over to his Meow Mix, stare at me for a long accusing minute, then flop himself down on the floor as if he better get started, the Meow Mix isn't going to eat itself.
And he hardly looked at the Christmas decorations at all this year. Not even a passing paw swipe at the ornament hanging just within his reach.
Do you think cats ask themselves: What is the meaning of all of this? If I cease to exist will the Meow Mix still flow without me? And what happens when I get through my 9th life?
Me and my cat curl up for a Gilmore Girls binge, me nibbling on Dark Hershey's Kisses, and him with some left over string cheese, to contemplate our co-existence.
"Is this as good as it gets?" he seems to ask with his large, sad eyes.
"Yep buddy. We all want a bowl full of food, a quiet place to nap, and a clean litter box. But once we get those, we aren't sure what we want."
Such is life, little kitty. Such is life.