I will tell you in another life, when we are both cats.

Cats. That one word can encapsulate an entire novel of arrogance, entitlement, indifference, and disdain usually reserved for autobiographies of 16th century nobility. Haughty isn't a strong enough adjective to assign these lofty creatures. We coddle, pamper, and indulge every fleeting pass hoping our attention will be acknowledged and affection will be returned. In some religions, reincarnation is the passing of the soul to a being greater than the life before. One can only assume if Utopia exists, that is surely where cats transcend, as anything else would be a demotion. I fear death a little less thinking I may be awarded rebirth as a 40 year old single woman's "Not Mr. Right, but Mr. Right Meow".