Just when I thought that I’d be fully contented working for the man, while indulging my passion for writing through blogging and various side hustles, here comes an the news from Mental Floss:
(Excerpted from the Mental Floss report)
“The Telegraph reports that the position at Cat Café Manchester pays £8 an hour and includes responsibilities like playing with and feeding the café’s many felines. From the job description, which was posted on Facebook:
The role of a Cat Nanny is to look after the general wellbeing of the Manchester Cat family alongside encouraging customer interaction with the cats. You will be required to look after the cats and the customers to the highest standards at all times. Shifts for Cat Nannies can be around the clock, when the café is both open to the public and closed. Our opening hours are 9am-9pm Monday to Sunday.
But the job won’t be all cuddling and playtime. The cat nanny will also be responsible for cleaning litter and changing the bedding for the cats’ beds.”
That’s it. I’m filing my 30-days notice and moving to the UK to care for cats.
Other than being a writer, I am a card-carrying cat lady. After all, I have a better relationship to cats than to most humans. I have a strong affinity to cats – particularly being the dignified, aloof, imperious members of our species that they are. While I also love dogs – the dog’s constant and profound display of love and emotion, their incessant need for attention and their tendency to grovel most of the times is not just my style.
Being a cat nanny is something that’s already in my resume. While I look like the imperious PR-bitch lady who always have her sh*t together most of the times, at home – I am nothing but a glorified yaya to our cats. No matter how tired or sick or lazy I am feeling, I am compelled to clean the kitty litter, pour a fresh batch, refill the kitty mug and distribute kibble. All the time.
My only consolation is that the Hubby gets to do all that when he’s home before I do. After waiting hand and foot to these feline princesses, I am expected to scoot from my usual place in our bed to accommodate Scarfy (Sayuri’s girl cat) and her other babies. Yes, in spite the small hovel where the Hub and I live – we still share it with our cats.
Our cats eat better than we do, usually gets immediate check up on the first sign of illness and get the best medicines possible. The day Sayuri (the lovely cat featured in the photos) passed away was one of the worst days of my life. Even now, five months after, there is not a day that goes by that I don’t miss her.
Obviously, I am more than qualified. However, aside from the geographical obstacles which will allow me to drop out of the rat race and run into the open paws of the posh feline variety, the fact that my grown up obligations like bills, buying a home, trying to get pregnant and furthering my career serves as a big obstacle in making my cat nanny dreams come true.
If you’re interested and you think you’re up for the job, visit the Cat Cafe Manchester FB page for more details.
As for me, am keeping my day job.