The Animal Instinct (reflections on quarantine)

Lately, I’ve been thinking about my mom, my brother, me, and our cats. We coexist in a house that could easily be mistaken for a cat sanctuary — there are ten of these furry, mischievous critters and just three of us humans. Being in quarantine for seven(?) months opened my eye to the intricate cross-species similarities we share and that I believe to be overlooked.

To stay locked in a house with twelve other beings for such a long time is not an easy duty even for people like Budha or Jesus, and for us mere mortals, it’s been an experience in which our wildest sides show up in animalistic feuds. Snarly vociferations such as “You ate my cheese bar!”, “Why didn’t you wash the dirties???”, “Get out of the bathroom now!” remind me of how our cats fight each other in order to protect their individual space and their turn on the cat food bowl.

Yes, there are behavioral similarities. Just like our cats like to stay quiet in their little corners, I can’t take being out of my cave for too long. Like a feline, my mom defends her treats from other predators. And like a fat kitten, my brother is lazy as hell.

Each thirteen of us share different peculiarities. I’m often amazed by how our cats seem to have perfect distinct personalities, like they have souls of their own. Akin, me and my house kindreds are none like each other, even though we grew up under the same roof.

But besides differences and similarities, observing the two species also allowed me to perceive one other striking relationship in our behavior: both of us cats and humans, at the end of the day, are seeking care. We both desperately want to feel as though a giant hand comes in to caress us and make us feel like nothing else matters, whether that’s metaphorical or not. Like my cats come to sleep in my feet to seek presence, me and my brother make movie nights not because we care about watching movies together, but because we want to have each other’s presence. And just like my cats meow to me when they have needs (food, backyard time, affection), my mom is the first person I call when I’m unsure about how to be an adult.

Lastly, I always think about how the grace and vigor of the feline royalty are fleeting. As hard to admit as it is, our precious beings, part of our family, won’t habit this Earth for much more than ten years. And although we humans have a few more time together, it’s still so passing.

I never want to stop watching movies with my brother or chatting with my mom about mundane things as much as I don’t want to stop the daily quarrels, because they’re part of it, they’re part of our animal instinct.