Training soul into the world

A sponging cat from the neighbour's has been visiting me a lot recently, after I gave it a bowl of milk and a pat. I don't keep my door closed. But like a trained robot, it instinctively wants to rub its body over my legs and make loud purring noises. These sorts of behaviours have obviously pleased humans for thousands of years, evidently for the cat's massaging techniques and "I'm a happy contented creature" sounds. So humans have allowed cats to sponge off them, in exchange for the ego-rubbing services. The cat in response cannot help itself from behaving like that, in the hope for food.

I don't allow it to rub against me, or sit on me. I don't give it food. It doesn't pur so much now, and meows a bit less. Its behaviour is simpler. It is being trained not to be an ego-masseuse. I can see humanity in this cat, millions of cat-generations of obsequiousness to sadistic humans. The cat has no conscience or soul, but I do.


— Kelly Jones