On Cats
Make it three JinroPops(TM). My wife made a deep, and in some ways disturbing, observation about her feline three weeks ago. It was this (paraphrased): “Even though my cat shows every indication of love, loyalty, and dedication to me, his intellect and reasoning are not advanced enough to make those things possible. He is just a dumb beast acting out as evolution has dictated to get him the best shot at surviving.” My wife is a serious, and cold, thinker, sometimes.
I had no problem with that, since her cat is more Brokeback than Mario Cantone doing a Liza Minnelli impression, then giving head to a doorman at a gay club in the Village to get entrance. Her mug spends more time stomping on balls and vomiting than doing the normal feline pursuits of…well, fuck, I don’t know what cats normally do, because I work for a friggin’ living. (sidetrack: my urban skillz are more than most on teh internets, apparently. ‘Mug’ is short for ‘Motherfucker’, but I couldn’t find a link. Continue.)
But then yesterday, my cat cuddled up to me, started purring and being all cool and shit, for no apparent reason. This is the same fucker that ignores me and spends his time in the guest bathroom sink during 94% of the waking day. Perhaps this was a recognition of the fact that I rescued him from certain death when he was a newborn kitten left to die on the rough North Shore of Oahu, but I highly doubt it. It occurred to me that my beautiful bride was right. Cats are ignigent (ignorant) beasts who react only to impulses which increase their chance of survival.
Still, does that make a difference? My wife is on Temporary Duty (TDY) to India, and I am by me lonesome in Hawaii, with torrential rains, floods, and faeces all about me. Is my lovely cat not filling the same role to me as I am to him? I don’t know, but the fact remains: I will openly kiss mein katz, tell him how awesome he is, while still maintaining that wearing suncreen makes one gayer than the brother from Frasier (both character and actor).
Make it four JinroPops(TM).
The Corcoran Brothers 
First off, JinroPops(TM) makes me think refreshing mid-July snack. Second, Katy –my personal stylist/female companion — has one cat and her roommate has two cats and a chihuahua in their tiny apartment. (Yes, the Village scenario you paint may resonate with him) In this beast fiesta, the chihuahua is the only animal in the house that seems to show anything resembling real affection — though it’s cold and calculating, like an Alien. He spends his time vieing for human attention or trying to screw the cats. The cats really just approach humans when they need food or shelter from their predatory canine friend. Really, you can give them all of the love you want, but know that if you fall unconcious for an inordinate amount of time due to that 5th JinropPop(TM), count on your adoring cat to eat you half-alive.