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Cats and boyfriends!
1. Dear Prudence,
I live in an apartment with a roommate, Sara, and my cat, Ravioli. We’ve all lived together for two and a half years without any issues. But Sara’s boyfriend of six months, Tom, is being a jerk to my cat, and I’m sick of it.
Tom dislikes cats (which is fine) but he’s extremely vocal about it, which gets tiresome for me. Tom sees some hair on the couch? “F***in’ cat.” Hears Ravioli meow as I open his wet food? “Oh my God, shut up.” Sees him walk toward his (frequently cleaned) litter box? “Ugh, disgusting.” He doesn’t have allergies, and it’s not a cleanliness thing because he likes dogs fine. It’s incredibly annoying. I occasionally respond with something like “Yes, Tom, the cat that lives here is being a cat, just like always,” but he takes that as an invitation to complain more.
Ravioli is sweet and friendly and likes to be around people. He likes to sit in laps, but if you tell him “down” (I clicker trained him!) or nudge him off you or have someone else call him over, he’ll leave right away. But Tom objects to having the cat near him at all in common areas—he wants to make him go away when he’s just curled up on the other side of the couch, or on a kitchen chair, or next to the TV. When I’m around, I say to leave him alone because he’s not bothering anyone. But I assume when I’m out, Tom is ousting him from his favorite lounge spots for no reason.
Last week, Tom pushed Ravioli out of a spot on the couch that he wanted, but Rav returned when he went to the kitchen. Instead of just moving him again, Tom splashed him with water from his glass. I said, “What the hell is wrong with you? Don’t ever do that again!” and Tom was defensive. Sara backed me up about it not being OK. But when I talked to her later and expressed my frustration with how Tom acts toward my cat in general, she said the comments and making him move weren’t a big deal because they don’t bother Ravioli. They’ve only hung out at his place instead of ours since it happened, which I appreciate, but Sara has mentioned him starting to come over again. I feel like I’m going to flip out on him if he so much as speaks to my cat again let alone touches him.
Keeping Rav in my room while Tom’s over seems unfair, because he’s over quite a bit. Why should he have to be cooped up because someone who doesn’t pay rent doesn’t want to look at him? I’d also have to move his food and the litter box into my bedroom. How do I proceed? The lease is up in September and I’ll move if I need to, but I’d rather not, and I still need ideas for how to handle things until then.
—Ravioli’s Human
Dear Ravioli’s Human,
You cannot go back to a situation where Tom is coming over all the time and splashing your cat with water. It’s too upsetting. I can feel the tension through your letter. When you’re on the verge of flipping out at someone in your own home, something has to change.
Luckily, something has. I would actually take it as a good sign that Tom and Sara have been hanging out at his place for now. That shows that they are willing to adjust. You say it’s not fair to keep Ravioli in your room because Tom’s over quite a bit, but what about keeping him in your room one or two nights a week? See if Sara can compromise about how often Tom will come over going forward, and let her know you’ll do your part by keeping Ravioli out of the way. Get a second litter box just for your bedroom. This one looks pretty stylish, and might feel nicer to have in your sleeping space. Get a litter genie too so you can clean up immediately after Ravioli. Food and water can be moved, especially if you get a set-up that holds both at once.
Should you have to do this? No, it’s your home and your cat and this man is being a jerk. Is creating some space from Tom, who you can’t really ban from the apartment, what’s best for both you and Ravioli right now? I think so.
I am optimistic that if all parties establish that they are willing to shift a little bit here, the temperature of the situation might come down. Perhaps after a few weeks, you could even have a direct conversation with Tom, air some of your feelings, and broker a friendlier relationship between him and Rav.
If a set-up involving these compromises really doesn’t work—either in theory, or in practice—yeah, you might have to move. Living with other people, and the people they insist on dating, can be really tough.
Link
**********
2. My boyfriend and I were talking about protecting human life, and he said that he doesn’t believe that human life is necessarily worth more than any other kind of life. For example, he said that if one of our cats were drowning next to a human who was a stranger to us (who was also drowning) and he could save just one, he would choose our cat. Is this morally wrong?
— Name Withheld
For many people, pets are fictive kin; they’re considered part of the family. In one study I’ve seen, hundreds of people were asked to consider how they’d respond if their pet ran in front of a bus at the same time that a foreign tourist stepped in front of it. They can only save one; the other will be killed. Which would they rescue? What the experimental psychologist Richard Topolski and colleagues found was that about 40 percent of respondents said they’d save their pet. If the choice were between their pet and a hometown stranger? The numbers dropped by just a few percentage points. A distant cousin? Almost a quarter of respondents still put their pet first. Not just any pet, mind you — they were choosing their pet.
These aren’t people with some grave defect of character. They have a duty of care toward their animal companion; the creature depends on them and, over time, they’ve developed a strong bond: a sense of affection, companionship, loyalty, all twined around a whole lot of memories. So the choice of plumping for your pet is, you could say, very human.
But yes, it’s very wrong. (In states with “duty to rescue” laws, it could be illegal too.) Those human strangers? They had rich emotional lives and they had plans, short-term and long-term, big and small; it’s a good guess that they were also part of other people’s plans, other people’s emotional lives. They had friends, co-workers, kin, dependents — maybe some assortment of parents, children, siblings, cousins — and possibly a spouse or life companion. You can expect the suffering that their death will bring to be deep, the ripple effects wide.
We shouldn’t assume that how people respond on questionnaires will necessarily predict how they’ll respond in real life, of course. Still, to see the full, reciprocal and socially enmeshed humanity of an abstract stranger can take work. I’m saying that your boyfriend is wrong; I’m not saying that he’s rotten. The more pressing question for you is this: If he had to choose between you and one of those cats, would he have to think it over?
Link, sorta - the letter came in my email but I don't think it's up on the site yet
I live in an apartment with a roommate, Sara, and my cat, Ravioli. We’ve all lived together for two and a half years without any issues. But Sara’s boyfriend of six months, Tom, is being a jerk to my cat, and I’m sick of it.
Tom dislikes cats (which is fine) but he’s extremely vocal about it, which gets tiresome for me. Tom sees some hair on the couch? “F***in’ cat.” Hears Ravioli meow as I open his wet food? “Oh my God, shut up.” Sees him walk toward his (frequently cleaned) litter box? “Ugh, disgusting.” He doesn’t have allergies, and it’s not a cleanliness thing because he likes dogs fine. It’s incredibly annoying. I occasionally respond with something like “Yes, Tom, the cat that lives here is being a cat, just like always,” but he takes that as an invitation to complain more.
Ravioli is sweet and friendly and likes to be around people. He likes to sit in laps, but if you tell him “down” (I clicker trained him!) or nudge him off you or have someone else call him over, he’ll leave right away. But Tom objects to having the cat near him at all in common areas—he wants to make him go away when he’s just curled up on the other side of the couch, or on a kitchen chair, or next to the TV. When I’m around, I say to leave him alone because he’s not bothering anyone. But I assume when I’m out, Tom is ousting him from his favorite lounge spots for no reason.
Last week, Tom pushed Ravioli out of a spot on the couch that he wanted, but Rav returned when he went to the kitchen. Instead of just moving him again, Tom splashed him with water from his glass. I said, “What the hell is wrong with you? Don’t ever do that again!” and Tom was defensive. Sara backed me up about it not being OK. But when I talked to her later and expressed my frustration with how Tom acts toward my cat in general, she said the comments and making him move weren’t a big deal because they don’t bother Ravioli. They’ve only hung out at his place instead of ours since it happened, which I appreciate, but Sara has mentioned him starting to come over again. I feel like I’m going to flip out on him if he so much as speaks to my cat again let alone touches him.
Keeping Rav in my room while Tom’s over seems unfair, because he’s over quite a bit. Why should he have to be cooped up because someone who doesn’t pay rent doesn’t want to look at him? I’d also have to move his food and the litter box into my bedroom. How do I proceed? The lease is up in September and I’ll move if I need to, but I’d rather not, and I still need ideas for how to handle things until then.
—Ravioli’s Human
Dear Ravioli’s Human,
You cannot go back to a situation where Tom is coming over all the time and splashing your cat with water. It’s too upsetting. I can feel the tension through your letter. When you’re on the verge of flipping out at someone in your own home, something has to change.
Luckily, something has. I would actually take it as a good sign that Tom and Sara have been hanging out at his place for now. That shows that they are willing to adjust. You say it’s not fair to keep Ravioli in your room because Tom’s over quite a bit, but what about keeping him in your room one or two nights a week? See if Sara can compromise about how often Tom will come over going forward, and let her know you’ll do your part by keeping Ravioli out of the way. Get a second litter box just for your bedroom. This one looks pretty stylish, and might feel nicer to have in your sleeping space. Get a litter genie too so you can clean up immediately after Ravioli. Food and water can be moved, especially if you get a set-up that holds both at once.
Should you have to do this? No, it’s your home and your cat and this man is being a jerk. Is creating some space from Tom, who you can’t really ban from the apartment, what’s best for both you and Ravioli right now? I think so.
I am optimistic that if all parties establish that they are willing to shift a little bit here, the temperature of the situation might come down. Perhaps after a few weeks, you could even have a direct conversation with Tom, air some of your feelings, and broker a friendlier relationship between him and Rav.
If a set-up involving these compromises really doesn’t work—either in theory, or in practice—yeah, you might have to move. Living with other people, and the people they insist on dating, can be really tough.
Link
2. My boyfriend and I were talking about protecting human life, and he said that he doesn’t believe that human life is necessarily worth more than any other kind of life. For example, he said that if one of our cats were drowning next to a human who was a stranger to us (who was also drowning) and he could save just one, he would choose our cat. Is this morally wrong?
— Name Withheld
For many people, pets are fictive kin; they’re considered part of the family. In one study I’ve seen, hundreds of people were asked to consider how they’d respond if their pet ran in front of a bus at the same time that a foreign tourist stepped in front of it. They can only save one; the other will be killed. Which would they rescue? What the experimental psychologist Richard Topolski and colleagues found was that about 40 percent of respondents said they’d save their pet. If the choice were between their pet and a hometown stranger? The numbers dropped by just a few percentage points. A distant cousin? Almost a quarter of respondents still put their pet first. Not just any pet, mind you — they were choosing their pet.
These aren’t people with some grave defect of character. They have a duty of care toward their animal companion; the creature depends on them and, over time, they’ve developed a strong bond: a sense of affection, companionship, loyalty, all twined around a whole lot of memories. So the choice of plumping for your pet is, you could say, very human.
But yes, it’s very wrong. (In states with “duty to rescue” laws, it could be illegal too.) Those human strangers? They had rich emotional lives and they had plans, short-term and long-term, big and small; it’s a good guess that they were also part of other people’s plans, other people’s emotional lives. They had friends, co-workers, kin, dependents — maybe some assortment of parents, children, siblings, cousins — and possibly a spouse or life companion. You can expect the suffering that their death will bring to be deep, the ripple effects wide.
We shouldn’t assume that how people respond on questionnaires will necessarily predict how they’ll respond in real life, of course. Still, to see the full, reciprocal and socially enmeshed humanity of an abstract stranger can take work. I’m saying that your boyfriend is wrong; I’m not saying that he’s rotten. The more pressing question for you is this: If he had to choose between you and one of those cats, would he have to think it over?
Link, sorta - the letter came in my email but I don't think it's up on the site yet