My cat does not care about politics. He does not care about abortion or Trump.

All he cares about are pets, and cuddles, and whether or not he can see a spot in the middle of his food bowl.

He cares about whether or not he can manage to eat the spider plant before I catch him, and if his poop is appropriately covered with just the right amount of litter.

He cares about whether or not the heating pad has been turned on.

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“I’m sorry, you said this was yours?“

He does not care about America’s stance on invading foreign countries and

overthrowing democratically elected governments.

He is happy that catnip is legal, although he does not know what the word means.

He will defend his yard to the death from George (the neighborhood tom), but anyone who

comes through the door with a warm lap and a can of tuna juice is more than

welcome in his home.

My cat does not care about vaccines and whether or not they cause autism–all he knows is that those kids better stay the hell away from his spot on the back of the couch.

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“Fuck your life.”

Democrat, Republican, black, white, red, yellow, or plaid–everyone (regardless

of color) should still appreciate the sparkling grandeur and supreme glory that is

his pale white cat butt.

Note how clean it is today– clearly free of all signs of poop.

He does not care about the status of your civil liberties, and patriotism is a concept

that is (ironically) foreign to him.

He doesn’t give a shit about either the Republican or Democratic national conventions, since neither of them have anything even closely resembling a laser pointer in their speeches.

He does, however, feel deeply divided about emails:

they are created by such a wonderful warm place, but the time it takes to make them inhibits precious petting opportunities.

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“If you stop petting, I will probably pee in your shoes.”

My cat does not care about who you voted for in the primaries, nor does he care about

the social and economic ramifications of Russia’s involvement in the election.

My cat does not care about nearly anything that you find to be of any real importance,

however, he does care about me–and about things that make him happy.

Perhaps I should try to be my cat for a day.

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“Bitch, please–you couldn’t even handle my life.”