Problem with having a jungle cat as a best friend is that he is a jungle cat.
Despite his better qualities — emotional sensitivity, intelligence, obvious moral superiority — he is still instinctually ferocious. True, he’s got a fair amount of patience and self control but even once in a while, when pushed to the limit he’ll snap, like when you hit him with a water balloon, step on his tail, or take the pillow fight just a little too far.
In joyful moments, his animal nature gets the best of him Sometimes he’ll forget his own strength when he should contain some of that feline enthusiasm. School is hard enough with Mrs. Cranky Face forcing word problems down your throat and Jake that cement-headed bully shaking you down at recess, but to have face the ominous threat of physical devastation after that long walk from the bus stop can be psychologically daunting.
Sure he misses you, but does he have to say ‘Hello’ with a hug at warp speed?
You really can’t complain when he treats you like prey, he’s a tiger after all and you can’t blame a guy for just being himself. He does have stripes; you know the deal. In a way you’re really fortunate he hasn’t eaten you whole by now.
I suppose it’s better than the alternative.
He could be running around the neighborhood eating the neighbor’s pets or the neighbors themselves.
It could be worse: you could have no best friend at all.
To be sure, having a jungle cat as a best friend comes with challenges but in the end the perks are worth the minor inconveniences of periodic cuts, bruises and ER visits.
Honestly, who else will nap on a tree branch with little to no convincing?
A jungle cat, that’s who.
Part of the Blogging A to Z Challenge