I have lived with cats for nearly every one of the past 50 years, have snuggled with them, given them a lap to nap in, had them sleep on my feet or by my shoulder, nursed them, administered and/or paid for all sorts of medical treatments, and, when their time came, seen them to as gentle an end as possible. Even when I was too broke to buy a loaf of bread, I made sure they were well fed. They never went without.
I’ve known warm, affectionate ones and one or two standoffish ones, although all were brought up to cuddle and interact. I’ve seen how they intuitively give company, comfort, and attention and how they bond with a special person. I’ve loved them like members of the family and done everything possible to keep them happy, healthy, and safe. Nothing has been missing from the wonderful experiences I’ve enjoyed with them, and I have always been confident that they had the best possible kitty lives with me and my family.
I just happen to believe that when we talk about our pets’ attachment to us, we habitually use the word “love” because that’s what we feel for them and we want to believe that their affection mirrors ours. But I truly don’t think it does. I think real love involves a capacity of mind that our pets don’t have. I think we are tremendously important to them, and they are extremely aware of our presence, our absence, our pleasure or displeasure with them, and even our state of mind. I think that they are capable of behaving in a way that increases our pleasure with them and that they can be incredibly loyal, attentive, and obedient. I just don’t call that love.
Never mind, I didn’t really expect anyone to agree with me. I’m simply stating my honest view. I’ll let it go at that.