It has been a very long time since I have written a blog post. Why? Maybe laziness, maybe exhaustion, maybe fear. Yes, I said fear. But fear of what, you may ask. Great question! Thanks for asking! It's the fear of inadequacy in the face of new technology. Specifically, I'm talking about AI and the fear of robot writers replacing real life writers like myself. They say, though, that you should face your fears head on and in today's blog, I will do just that. I have decided to write a blog post about the fact that my cats are simultaneously cute and gross. I then provided ChatGPT with some specific prompts on the same topic. I will post both versions below without telling you, my faithful readers, which is which. Now it will be your task to: a) guess which version is mine and which is AI, and b) tell me which you like better. If AI wins, I'll hang up my writing gloves. If I win, I'll start my novel tomorrow. (No pressure, even though my entire future is in your hands.) Now, read away...
VERSION 1
Cats
are the epitome of cute and gross all rolled into one fuzzy, little package. I
should know, because I’m the proud owner of two feline terrors – Muffin and
Ping. These two furballs bring a unique blend of adorableness and repulsiveness
into my life every day. It’s a never-ending rollercoaster of emotions, and I
wouldn’t want have it any other way.
Let’s start with the cute. Muffin and Ping are the poster children for feline
cuteness. When they stretch out in the sun, their tiny paws curl and their eyes
squint, making them look like fluffy, contented marshmallows. I can’t resist
snapping pictures of them in these moments and bombarding my friends with
endless cat photos. I’ve even considered starting an Instagram account just for
them. Cute cats could potentially be my ticket to internet stardom. So, you
see, the cuteness is undeniable.
But then, there’s the gross. Cats have a knack for finding and playing with the
most disgusting things. Ping, for instance, has a weird obsession with rubber
bands. I’ll be sitting at my desk, working diligently, and then I’ll hear that
unmistakable ping of a rubber band being flicked across the room. Ping has managed
to collect an impressive assortment of rubber bands from the far corners of our
house. I don’t know where he finds them, but I suspect there’s some sort of secret
underground rubber band marketplace for cats. It’s a mystery that may never be
solved.
Muffin, on the other hand, has a love for hunting. While it’s a natural instinct
for cats to catch prey, Muffin’s idea of “hunting” involves tracking down flies
and eating them. Yes, you heard me right – eating them. I once caught her
mid-bite with a fly’s wing sticking out of her mouth. It was both impressive
and nauseating at the same time. I had to give her credit for her resourcefulness,
but I also couldn't help but cringe at the thought of fly wings being consumed
in my living room.
Cats are also notorious for their less-than-pleasant bathroom habits. The
litter box, or as I like to call it, the poop palace, is a necessary evil in
any cat owner’s life. It’s a never-ending cycle of scooping out clumps of
litter mixed with cat waste, and it always seems to happen right after I’ve
cleaned the darn thing. Muffin and Ping have impeccable timing when it comes to
leaving their gifts in the litter box.
And let’s not forget the joy of being woken up in the middle of the night by
the sound of Muffin and Ping having a WWE-style wrestling match in the hallway.
There’s nothing quite like being jolted out of a peaceful slumber by the sounds
of crashing furniture and hissing cats. It’s as if they’ve decided that 3 a.m.
is the perfect time to reenact the Battler of the Bastards from Game of Thrones
in my living room.
Despite all the cuteness and grossness, I wouldn’t trade Muffin and Ping for
anything in the world. They bring endless entertainment, and their antics keep me
on my toes. Sure, they may have a knack for finding and playing with gross
things, but they also have a way of making me smile even on the toughest days.
The ups and downs of cat ownership are all part of the adventure, and I wouldn’t
have it any other way. So, here’s to Muffin and Ping, the dynamic duo of cute
and gross, and to all the other cat owners out there who can relate to the chaos
and joy that comes with these furry little companions.
VERSION 2
There are dog households and there are cat households (and I
suppose a few hybrid dog-cat households) and we fall squarely into the cat
household category. That means, in addition to the four human inhabitants in
our domicile, there are two feline family members walking around. Well, let’s
be honest, they’re mostly lying around, but you get the point.
Our cats are Ping (black and lean) and Muffin (grey and round) and they bring
much joy to our lives. Their hobbies are being cute, purring when petted, and
begging for food every time we sit down at the dinner table. They also have
their own little interesting eccentricities. Ping, for example, will headbutt
me in the knee when he wants cat treats, while Muffin will aggressively meow at
you if you sneeze. (I’m pretty sure Muffin thinks that sneezing is equivalent
to roaring or growling, so when it happens, she has to stand her ground.)
As much as we love our cats and absolutely swoon the two or three times per
year they show affection toward each other, there is an ugly side to cat
ownership that few people talk about. I’m going to be brave, though, and discuss
the topic that is often swept under the rug…cats are gross.
There, I said it. Adorable as they are, cats can be disgusting. On multiple
occasions I have unwittingly stepped in, or sat in, cat puke. (Well, I guess it
would have to have been unwittingly—who would wittingly do such a thing?) In
fact, just a couple of weeks ago I had to change from shoes to sneakers right
before going to work, because I stepped in a puddle of sick moments before
leaving the house. Luckily, even though my work dress code forbids sneakers,
nobody in my office happened to look down that day.
And then there’s the litterbox, which must be changed daily. Scooping up
another creature’s waste is never a fun undertaking to begin with, but one of
our cats, who shall remain nameless (Ping, I’m looking at you) doesn’t know how
to cover their own poo. Oh, he tries—boy does he try. He’ll spend a good five
minutes after he goes, pawing all around the litterbox, thinking he’s actually
burying his business, when in fact, the litter has been sent everywhere except
where it should have gone. Then he will casually walk out of the box as though
everything is hunky dory, leaving one of the humans (generally me) to finish
the burial process for him.
At times I wonder why I put up with such revolting behavior. Why must I spend a
significant portion of my waking hours dealing with the bodily emissions of
someone other than myself? Then I remember that I have kids and that for the
first two years of their lives, I spent even more time dealing with their
heinous waste than I ever did with the cats. And the kids aren’t even as fun to
pet as the cats.
So, I guess we put up with the gross stuff because they are cute, and because
they are part of the family, and because, in the end, love is stronger than
poo.
