#—claws out for body size bullying like this is ONE THING nobody should EVER take away from them. The ONE form of cruel enjoyment. | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

sketchy-saram · 5 years ago

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Just some very personal thoughts I had yesterday, thinking about all the small ways that society--and my mother--taught me not to love myself when I was younger, and how long it has taken to claw myself out of that pit. And that was in a LOVING home. How some people ever manage self-love despite the negativity, I have no idea. But I love all of you, and just know that it might take a while--it may take a LONG while--but you can learn to love yourself, and let yourself be. <3

As I was sitting having lunch yesterday, listening to the cafeteria ladies chat about my new haircut, I thought: is it really so revolutionary, in 2020, for a girl to have short hair? But of course it is. It may be something we're more used to seeing than, say, men with long hair, but it defies traditional gender nonetheless. Yet the older I get, the more I wonder why we feel the need to cling to gender and propriety and tradition so strongly that we will limit ourselves and others. But we do, and we begin so early that it is scary.

I thought about my hair. I thought about the reasons I had for keeping it long, when it was long, and I thought about how I felt now that it was shorter. The truth is, I never liked having long hair. It takes so long to shampoo and condition...it clings to your neck in the summer, and gets in your eyes...I never knew what to do with it or how to style it, and from the ages of 12-18 I almost exclusively wore it in a clam-style clip, twisted back and out of sight, out of mind. Why then? Why didn't I get it cut? Because girls are supposed to have long hair. Because when older women have longer hair, they're weird hippies, so if you want to have long hair, you have to do it while you're young. But at the same time, if you have short hair while you're young, it means that you're a lesbian, which of course IS FINE, but yet not at the same time, because you can tell by the way it’s said that it isn’t something you’re supposed to want to look like.

I used to think that I had to grow my hair out so that it could be styled when I got married, because of course only long hairstyles look good on brides for wedding photos, and at that time so long ago I figured that a wedding would be in my cards soon enough. Except that I still hated my long hair. It was frizzy and thick, but nobody would let me get it thinned--for reasons I still have yet to decipher to this day--so it had no shape and no body, it just...existed. The first time I got a major haircut as an adult was the first time I really felt freedom. It wasn’t even that short...just shoulder-length...but I already felt an inkling of what it was that I wanted, which was to take back my appearance and make it my own. My long hair, to me, said that I was trying to fit in but would always be found wanting, because I wasn’t like everyone else. Short hair said yes, I’m not meant to fit into the box of normal things, so please don’t put your expectations on me--I don’t want them. I hate expectations.

It was, more or less, the same for clothes. I am stocky at best, fat at also-best, because neither of those are evil and are only descriptions. But just like ‘lesbian’, ‘fat’ has connotations for normalcy that are stigmatized; while nobody will come right out and say it (unless you happen to be on an internet forum,) being fat is not the IDEAL description you want to be using for yourself. And so it goes. But it made what was already a fraught experience of existing as a girl even more exhausting, because I wasn’t allowed to look fat. The first time I felt that, in my bones, was when I was still fairly young. Maybe eight? I was bathing suit shopping with my mom, and tried on a two-piece that was very 4th-of-July, American-flag themed. I can still see the white stars and blue-and-red stripes on the top in my mind’s eye. She looked at me troubled for a minute before saying, I guess in the nicest way possible to give your child lifelong body issues, that perhaps we should try the one piece. That day, the way the world would look at me suddenly came into sharp relief; all the parts of myself I should be trying to hide popped out like a hidden picture book in that shopping mall fitting-room mirror. I saw my round belly, poking out from between the two separate pieces of fabric, and realized it was not right. I hadn’t even learned to suck in yet, a subconscious action which I now do as thoughtlessly as breathing because of the off-handed comments my mother would make about girls I saw as skinny who ‘would look much better if they just learned to suck in that little bit of stomach’. This is a game with no winners, I realized so early, but I guess I still have to play. Now I have to consciously try not to suck in, and it is so hard to unlearn.

We, mom and I, talked at first about how I would get thinner because ‘it was just baby fat’; and then, when it didn’t go away, how ‘we can diet together. You’re still young. Your skin will bounce back.’ Shopping at the one cheap store in the mall that sold plus-sizes--on the other side from the straight-size section, and with much uglier options--I learned that plaid ‘will make you look like a lesbian’--seems like that was a theme--so I didn’t get the plaid button-up that I really liked. But now I am almost thirty, and I look back with so much anger and sadness and confusion and regret. Why? WHY did it have to be like that? My mom wasn’t a spiteful or a hateful woman. I know that if she read this, it would break her heart into a million pieces to think that all these things have affected me so much for so long. She didn’t do or say anything that a million other parents haven’t told their kids off-handedly before her, or since. But still, I have to ask the question: why? What is the point?

I don’t want to have children. I’ve given the issue a lot of thought, and it just isn’t for me. But I still feel, strongly, that parents need to put more effort into not saying things that their kids will remember long after they’re said. Let your kids do what they want with their appearance. It truly, truly doesn’t matter. Let them have their hair how they want it--it will grow back. Let them wear whatever fashion they like, and refrain from stepping in with your outside opinions about how the world will perceive those choices. Your children desperately need you to be in their corner; not their first bullies, and not the first words of doubt in their mind. Don’t let your voice be their voice of inner-doubt. Kids are cruel, but they don’t have to be. It is just as learned as using a fork, or going to the bathroom, or turning off the lights. When you say things that you think will help your child not be made fun of, you are teaching them a few things; one, that fitting in is the most important thing a person can do, and it is something to strive for. Two, that you are judging them, and that you are part of the society of which they should be worried about pleasing. Why would you want that? If you support their choices, then sure, maybe you’ll have to console a few tears--but in doing so, you put yourself firmly in your child’s corner, and it becomes the two of you versus the world. They will see you as an ally they can confide in, instead of worrying about talking to you because they’ll only get a ‘told you so’. And in the end, isn’t that what you want to be for your children? Otherwise, why did you have them in the first place?

It has taken me the better part of 29 years to learn to, at long last, finally start to quell the voices of inner doubt that plague my every decision, and even now there are days which are a real struggle. I read an article about an 80-year-old woman who was finally comfortable enough with herself to dress the way she wanted. Take that in. Eighty years. Why has society warped us so much that it takes someone eighty YEARS to do what they want to do, when it isn’t hurting anyone? The way you dress, the way you look; as long as you are legal, it shouldn’t be anyone else’s concern. So the next time you see someone who looks a way you don’t agree with, shut yourself down before you think anything unkind. Change starts there. It gets easier to look at yourself kindly when you don’t keep a judgemental running dialogue about other people in your mind. And learn to let yourself be. We all have those moments that we realized the world would not be kind. Maybe, someday, other people won’t have to have those moments. And wouldn’t that be lovely?

So I keep sliding my hands over my shaved head, enjoying the feeling of the buzzed bits, more authentically me than I ever have been, and I smile when people look at me with confusion. Because at last I look the way I want to look, holding nothing back...and that is so wonderfully freeing.

#personal #writing #sketchy stuff #personal writing #body positive #childhood #cleaning out some mental gunk #long post #writing under the cut

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popatochisssp · 6 years ago

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Snips & Snails 6/7

Series: Undertale, Horrortale Relationship(s): HT!Sans/Reader, HT!Sans & HT!Papyrus Chapter Warnings: none

It's been a rough road. It hasn't been easy to make it this far. ...But he did it.

AO3 Link

PERSEVERANCE

Sans mulls it over for a long, long……long time.

It’s not the kind of thing you rush into, lots of factors to be considered, and honestly, he’s…a little nervous about what you’ll say.

But eventually, he builds up the courage to ask.

One night while you’re cuddled up beside him in bed, he gently nudges you and just blurts it out.

“i want a cat.”

Sans isn’t quite sure what he expects you to say, but you manage to surprise him anyway.

“Yeah? Okay, a cat sounds nice.”

“……really?”

It feels like it shouldn’t be so easy.

He feels like you should be…rolling your eyes at him, pointing out that you already have a pet, he doesn’t need another one.

(Sans never thinks that he had a bad dad, but it’s moments like these, when he’s surprised to be so quickly, unquestioningly supported that he realizes he probably didn’t… have a very good one, either.)

You make half a shrugging gesture and wriggle a little closer beneath his arm.

“Sure,” you say. “I mean, we probably want to be careful about personality, don’t want Buddy getting bullied too bad, but… yeah, we should be able to handle a cat.”

“……”

Sans elects not to answer with words. He figures his silent gratitude is understood in the way you snicker at his affectionate nuzzling.

“Got your eye on anybody in particular, or…?”

At that, it’s Sans’ turn to shrug.

“i’ll let ya’ know,” he says, and that’s the end of that discussion.

Sans is excited already.

You actually have no part in picking out the cat.

You’re out walking a new dog and Sans is in the cat room, cleaning out litterboxes and it just sort of happens.

Just like in the movies, practically in slow motion, he looks up and meets eyes with…her.

‘She’s a fine specimen of feline’…is something that would probably not be said about her very often.

She’s a little weird-looking, with a thin, sparse coat instead of a fluffy one and gigantic ears that don’t really fit her head and when she sees Sans looking at her, she screams at the top of her lungs—which is pretty damn loud, because those big bat-ears of hers don’t work and she has no concept of volume control.

Her loudness is actually what got her the affectionate name of…

………

Well, Sans can’t remember it now, but he thinks it was probably appropriate, whatever it was.

He also thinks that this cat has been here a pretty long time already, with no one willing to give her a chance.

And he knows instantly that she’s The One.

He feels it urgently enough that he finishes his task and then goes straight to her, scooping her up and carrying her into the lobby.

She sniffs and tries to bite the pen he uses to hastily scrawl his name on the adoption form, but then is perfectly mild-mannered as he pays the fee and probably spooks the receptionist by shortcutting home with his new cat.

Sans sets her down in the middle of the living room. Even knowing she can’t hear it, he still says, “go on, check out your new digs,” and slowly, cautiously, she does.

She looks around, taking a sniff of the carpet, the coffee table, the leg of the couch, and it seems to pass muster.

The real challenge is when Buddy’s head pokes out of the kitchen door, investigating the noise of somebody home so early in the day.

Sans watches them carefully as the two catch sight of each other for the first time.

He surprises himself with how much animal body language he’s picked up over the years and how well he understands what’s happening now.

Buddy’s ears are back, but his tail is slowly wagging as he comes on in—a little wary, but mostly curious.

The cat’s tail is straight out behind her, a little low, but not fluffed—not quite sure of what’s happening, but not scared, either.

Buddy approaches and when he’s finally close enough, he…sniffs her.

She sniffs him back and summarily decides he is a boring dog, like all the other ones she’s seen at the shelter, and ambles away to explore much more interesting things.

She’s not followed because Buddy goes straight to Sans instead, snuffling at his slippers in greeting of his skeleton-dad.

Sans grins so wide it makes his skull ache.

“good boy, buddy,” he assures him, giving him a real good scritch behind the ear.

No instantly flying fur and claws was a fantastic sign and he makes sure to give his little pal a cookie for being cool before tracking down his littler pal on her tour around her new home-to-be.

Sans can’t quite say it’s all smooth sailing.

Actually, aside from the meeting with Buddy, there’s not much smooth about her introduction into the house at all.

She knocks over three cereal boxes and a half-empty bag of coffee trying to jump on top of the fridge. She finds the laundry room and spends a good few minutes yelling at the washer and looking between it and Sans as if expecting him to explain himself for it. He picks her up and shows her the upstairs instead and she gets so excited about the new territory that she starts to rocket back and forth with the kind of Unique Cat Energy that usually only comes out at three in the morning, and…

Well, by the end of that, at least Sans has a pretty good name for her.

He asks if she likes it, but she just hops up onto his lap and starts kneading little cat-claw-sized holes in his already hole-ridden hoodie.

“you’re such a weird goof,” he mutters down at her. “you’re gonna do great here.”

She keeps on kneading and squints at him, the way you always say he does when he’s happy.

Sans doesn’t think he’s capable of making a face as cute as hers, but he guesses love can make even the ugliest of monsters seem cute.

And speaking of love, you’re walking in through the front door, smiling brightly at the sight that greets your eyes.

“Here you are,” you say, with a cute little smirk, and…

Oh.

Did Sans text you he was leaving, or did he just sorta…ditch you?

“……sorry,” he says sheepishly, attempting to cover his bases, but you shake your head.

“Don’t worry about it,” you say. “I figured something pretty important must’ve been up and it wasn’t too hard to figure out what when my husband and our resident noisemaker both disappeared at the same time.”

You come right up to Sans and the cat, unable to stop your grin as she cranes her head directly backwards to look at you.

She seems happy to see you and the feeling is mutual. You gently harass her, flicking her ears and letting her chew your finger a bit.

“How’s Banshee like the place, anyway?” you wonder.

Banshee, that was it!

But Sans doesn’t have to worry about forgetting that again.

“slinky likes it just fine,” he assures you. “already buddied up with buddy, even.”

You smile, but also… you know him entirely too well.

“She got that name for a reason, didn’t she?”

Sans shrugs, but he’s already grinning, anticipating your question.

You sigh. “Alright, alright, let’s hear it—why ‘Slinky’?”

“wasn’t lookin’ where she was goin’ an’ cartwheeled down the stairs.”

“Pfft! Hahahahaha, Sans…!” You scoops Slinky up and hold her to your chest, as if protecting her from him. “That’s so mean!”

“heheheheh, you’re laughin’,” he gleefully points out. “‘sides, it ain’t like she’s gonna come when we call. could name her ‘fartface’ if we wanted to.”

“Let’s…stick with ‘Slinky’ for now.”

“yeah, you’re right. ‘fartface’ is more of a middle name.”

Sans knows the punch-line hit you unexpectedly when you snort trying to hold back a wheeze and his soul feels fit to burst with pride.

You may not be the biggest audience he’s ever performed for, but you’re definitely one of the best.

And you’re hands down his absolute favorite.

Sans doesn’t miss his guess about Slinky: she’s a great fit for your home.

She…causes some collateral damage around the house from time to time—which Papyrus doesn’t particularly love—but she more than makes up for it by being the sweetest cat you could ever imagine.

One of her favorite things to do is just sit on top of people and purr. She does it to everyone in the house at some point or another, but she seeks out Sans’ lap the most and it’s…nice.

It’s especially nice for those times when you and Pap are at work and Sans is home, dissociating so hard that not even Buddy’s head resting on his feet is enough to bring him back around.

Lately, Sans has been coming back to himself with a dog at his feet and a vibrating cat-loaf in his lap, or just a little more rarely, some loud, insistent screaming and gentle paws bapping at his skull because it’s lunch-time and Queen Slinky has not been fed yet, the horror!

You make for a much kinder nursemaid than the cat, but… Sans thinks Slinky does a pretty good job, too.

At least good enough to earn her an extra treat or two on top of her meals, just because.

Slinky loops around your feet and yells excitedly when you get home, barely bullies Buddy, and as much as Papyrus gives her the side-eye-socket and refers to her exclusively as, “The Menace,” he always seeks her out and plops her onto his lap while he’s watching those soap operas he loves so much, and that’s more telling than anything else.

Sans is really glad he brought her home.

He feels like he made a good decision.

It’s a rare feeling, for him. It’s often felt like most of his decisions…weren’t entirely his own. Or weren’t decisions at all, just things he had to do.

But he didn’t have to get this cat: nobody told him to do it, nobody needed him to do it, nothing bad would have happened if he hadn’t done it.

…But life feels just a little bit nicer because he did and that’s…good.

Really good.

Slinky’s most hated enemy in the entire world is definitely the washing machine.

Something about the look or smell of it had already put it afoul of her, but then she had discovered something far more sinister about it.

Sometimes…one of you turned it on.

She certainly couldn’t hear it but she must’ve been able to feel its vibrations or something because her indignant, offended yelling could not be stopped on Laundry Day, The Most Awful of All Days.

Sans is recording this one.

“…aaan’ we’re live at the scene of the most clawful travesty catkind has ever seen—the washing machine is running. we go to our correspondent, slinky, for more. slinky?”

Slinky looks right at the camera of Sans’ phone. “MYAAAAAAAAAH!”

“harrowing. now, do ya’ think there is even the slightest pawssibility that you’re blowing this out of proportion?”

“MRRRRRAAAAAA!”

“i see. and ya’ can’t think of any way to put a better spin on this?”

“MRRRRRRRR.”

“well, far be it from me to tell ya’ what you should be feline in the midst of this catastrophe.”

Sans angles his phone towards the washing machine and the clothes and soap swirling around inside.

“yeeeep, me an’ slink are havin’ loads of fun here. might have to spring for another cycle just to keep it goin’.”

As if Slinky could understand him—or even hear him—she yells again and it almost sounds like the word ‘no.’

He loves this freakin’ cat.

“heheheh, c’mon, slink, get a sense of humor, m’only kitten.”

Slinky bats at the glass door of the washing machine, utterly humorless and very loud (as usual).

Sans sighs.

“guess not everybody appreciates the clean humor. maybe i gotta start workin’ blue?”

He stops the recording before he can laugh too hard at his own joke and texts the video straight to you.

He doesn’t expect a quick response, and he doesn’t get one.

You’re out—not at work, but at some sorta training class with Buddy. Sans thinks it’s to do with service dog stuff, something about ‘he’s gonna earn that damn vest’, and while Buddy’s certainly smart enough for it, he doesn’t totally see the point in it himself.

It’s important to you and your Justice soul, though, and that’s all that really matters to Sans, in the end, so whatever classes you want to take with your son is fine by him.

The (horrible, evil, no good) laundry is finished by the time Sans gets an answer.

You: LOL, baby, you gotta post that one!

………post it?

PUNbelievable: what, like…online?

You: Yeah, it’s really funny!

Sans is…honestly a little thrown by the suggestion.

He never thought of doing that before.

He wonders…if you’re just saying something nice, or if you really think he should do it.

And even if you do…you’re probably the most biased person he could ask.

You love him, of course you think his goofy cat puns and laundry jokes are funny.

He spares a glance at Slinky, already happily loafed and furring up the clean, folded sweatpants at the top of the laundry pile.

She’s the real star of that video, isn’t she?

Eventually, he settles on a response to you.

PUNbelievable: i’ll take another one next laundry day with just slink in it, give the people what they really want.

A weird, screaming cat seemed more like something people on the internet would actually wanna see, without his half-baked puns ruininginterrupting it.

But you insist.

You: No, it’s perfect, funnybones, just post it!!!

Three exclamation points—you really must mean it.

Sans still hesitates.

He spends a couple days mulling it over, resisting the urge to just ‘accidentally’ delete the video from his phone so he’d have an excuse not to do anything with it, but in the end…

In the end, Sans thinks that as biased as you are, he probably trusts your opinion more than his own when it comes to…himself.

And if you think it’s funny, then somebody else out there probably will, too. Even just one more smile out there in the world is something Sans has trouble saying ‘no’ to.

He posts the video.

And the comments flood in.

Most of them are exactly what Sans expected:

Not to be dramatic, but I would die for this loud goblin

lol what’s with the ears? Is she gonna grow into that?

why she screm at own laundry

But there’s also…

There’s a lot more comments than he’d thought that are…

That are…

You’re pretty funny, dude, cute cat!

The commentary really makes the video, I love this guy already

hOW MANY PUNS DO YOU HAVE?! WHEN WILL GOD SILENCE YOUR SINFUL TONGUE

……Sans actually screenshots that last one, just to save.

But he finds himself coming back to the post every couple of hours, reading new comments and old ones, trying (and mostly failing) to remember if the number of likes had gone up since the last time he looked.

It makes him feel… a very familiar feeling.

It’s just a flash, but it feels the same as when he used to be able to do standup; when his skull was whole and he could retain a whole set, beat for beat, without getting mixed up somewhere or forgetting an hour in if he already did that joke or not.

All he did was post a little video, but looking at all these likes and comments makes him realize what’s actually happening here: that there’s real, actual people out there, hundreds of them, and they’re all looking at this clip with his weird cat and his silly puns and they’re smiling. They’re laughing, they’re having a good time and it’s…

It’s because of Sans.

He did that.

A thought slowly creeps its way into his skull.

That video wasn’t even five minutes long.

Sans’ short-term memory sucks, but even he can keep himself on track for five minutes.

It’s been a long time since Sans has felt this openly, unrestrainedly hopeful. The last thing that made him feel like this was…is you, the love of his life, and getting to feel so passionate about something again—after so long without it—is exciting beyond the telling of it.

The next time he’s home alone with Slinky, he pokes her belly, waking her up from a nap.

She yells at him, but he pays it no mind.

“hey, slink. ya’ ready to take the stage again?”

Because Sans thinks…that he is.

The next video he takes is of Slinky on her back and trying to rabbit-kick a cat-toy that she’s way too long for.

His punning game is cranked up to eleven and without anyone’s encouragement necessary, he goes right ahead and posts it.

The likes and comments come in a flood and most of them are still about the cat, but Sans doesn’t think he minds playing second fiddle to a feline with as much star-power as Slinky’s got.

He spends a long time reading over the stuff people have to say about him and his cat and almost every single one gives him that same amazing thrill of validation.

But his favorite is still the one you left on it.

LOL, what a goober. Like father like daughter! ;3

Sans looks at those words and the cute little emoticon and all he can think about is how amazing it is that he has all this; that he’s still around to have all this.

He’s alive and thriving, with a nice house and plenty of food in it for him, his brother, his human, and two pets. He has a family that loves him, he’s (more or less) stable, and now, he has a brand new hobby that’s giving him feelings he thought he’d never get to experience again.

Things are good. He’s okay, and more than that, he’s…

Keys jingle from behind the front door and Sans knows that it’s you.

The second you’re through the door, he’s on you—sweeping you up into his arms and nuzzling the living daylights out of you.

You laugh, one of Sans’ favorite sounds in the world.

“Sans, what the hell,” you giggle in between smooching him back, but Sans just shakes his head.

“no reason,” is what he says, because there really isn’t one.

He’s just happy.

Maybe that’s reason enough.

Postscript to Fur a Good Time, Call…

A/N: Sans, allowed to do things for himself? Getting to have things he enjoys, after years of getting pushed into stuff and barred from his own happiness?It's more likely than you think. ;3

Prev Chapter | Next Chapter

#snipsnsnails #undertale #fanfiction #sans #papyrus #sans/reader #horrortale #ht!sans #ht!papyrus #myfic

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purrcraze · 6 years ago

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Does Biting A Cat´s Ear Show Dominance? The Ugly Truth

We’ve all heard the legend that biting a cat’s ear will show them who is the boss around the house. But will nibbling on Fluffy’s pointy ear really mark you as a dominant member of the family? Or will it just convince your cat that you are insane and to be avoided?

Does Biting A Cat´s Ear Show Dominance? Biting a cat’s ear is not only very difficult to do, but also completely useless. In the best possible scenario, nothing will happen. Your cat will carry on with her life and continue to consider you inferior. In the worst case scenario, you will end up severely scratched, and your cat will be traumatized for life.

It has been proven that having a healthy, well-rounded relationship with your pet is what you really should be striving for. Read on to find out more about where this awkward advice comes from, why it’s completely crazy and what you should really be doing!

So what’s wrong with the ear-biting advice?

The most dangerous lousy advice is the one that is closest to the truth. We tend to follow it more blindly because it “sounds right”.

Even though the theory of biting a cat, or any pet, to show dominance has been thoroughly debunked for decades, it still floats around the internet and gets passed on as a “good tip”.

The problem with this myth is that it is based on actual observation. Animals, in the wild and in the home, will use subtle cues to establish and assert their dominance within their group, pack or herd. Most of these cues involve some sort of physical interaction.

In the case of dogs and cats, it has been often observed that a dominant specimen will bite the ears of a submissive specimen.

So this must mean, logically, that if we do the same thing, we will establish ourselves as the dominant pack member, right?

Wrong!

There are two essential problems with this advice that people keep ignoring, whether by mistake or on purpose.

We are not as subtle communicators as cats, dogs, or any other animal. We have speech, and they don’t. The way they communicate is as far beyond our grasp as Shakespeare is beyond theirs.

The way they send these messages of dominance and submission is complicated and involves many cues.

The gesture is coupled with body language, heart rate, a certain level of pressure of the bite, and even chemicals released by their organism. Humans don’t have that range of transmission, so even if we think that we are sending a very clear message to our cat, we’re really not.

We are observing an effect, not the cause of dominance. A dominant animal will often bite the ear of a submissive one, yes, but that’s not how they became dominant in the first place.

Their dominance is often a factor of size, health, bravery, the result of many fights, and hundreds of other things we can’t fully comprehend.

The fact that they bite each other’s ear is simply an effect that takes place after dominance has already been established. Us trying to do it would be very much like trying to occupy a job that we didn’t actually get.

What is unacceptable dominant behavior?

Dominant behavior is not automatically bad or good, it’s just behavior. Your cat, especially in a multi-cat household, will be more dominant than some cats, and less dominant than others.

What kind of behavior you find unacceptable depends very much on you, and nobody else can dictate how your household should live. While for some people, having their cat sleep on their chest is not OK, others think it’s a treat.

Here is a list of cat behavior that people often think is “wrong” but is in fact completely normal.

Remember though, just because it’s normal doesn’t mean you have to accept it! It just means that there’s nothing wrong with your cat and she is simply displaying behavior normally found within her DNA.

sitting on you,

sleeping on your chest,

nipping, biting (yes, really),

biting, then licking,

biting or scratching when being petted,

getting overexcited when being petted,

refusing to be picked up,

refusing to be bathed,

hissing at you to defend food,

getting angry when woken up from a deep sleep

These, as well as many others, are completely natural, explainable attitudes. Which ones you are willing to put up with and which ones you need to stop are entirely your decision and depend on the background and personality of your cat.

Perhaps, for example, a stray cat that was nearly starved to death will be extra defensive about food, and knowing her circumstances, you might decide to allow that. Your roof, your rules!

What will happen if I bite my cat’s ear?

First of all, I sincerely wish you the best of luck in doing that. Since you are considering biting your cat’s ear, you probably already have a cat which has displayed some sort of behavioral issues towards you.

That just makes it all the more unlikely that you are going to get anywhere near their ears at all, let alone with your mouth.

Second of all, if you do insist on trying, I strongly advise that you prepare bandages, disinfectant, and potentially sutures beforehand. A knowledge of how to stitch gaping wounds is advisable.

Otherwise, a friend ready to call the ambulance will suffice. Remember that your cat has claws, and it takes a split second for her to move them from the ground to your face.

Even a cat that has never once scratched you might decide to give it a try on this occasion.

Finally, if you do get a good chomp in and survive, be prepared that she may never let you get near her ever again. Rightfully so, your cat has now understood that you are a psychopath and not to be trusted.

You probably don’t have to worry about your cat trying to dominate you anymore, but that’s because it just won’t come anywhere close to you.

Did your cat just lie there placidly, completely unconcerned, and let you bite its ear without even caring? Congratulations, you have a cat that likes you, trusts you, and has zero dominance issues whatsoever.

So there was no point in doing it at all unless you fancied finding out what it feels like to have a furry tongue.

What can I do to show my cat that I am boss?

While quick fixes for bad behavior may do more damage than good, there are definitely things you can do in order to improve the situation that don’t involve abusing your cat.

Accept that you are not going to be “dominating” your cat. The whole “be the alpha of your pack” attitude is primitive and had been repeatedly proven faulty for both dogs and cats. In a healthy relationship with your pet, you would be a friend and guide, not an evil dictator.

Accept that cats are not as trainable as dogs, so there are some aspects of their personality that no amount of work can erase. It is possible, for example, to educate your cat to bite less. However, you can’t turn an independent, fierce and adventurous cat into a pet that will heel at the snap of your fingers.

It’s OK to be assertive in the right conditions. If you’re absolutely sure that your cat doesn’t frighten easily, isn’t already wary of you, and doesn’t show any signs of being shy, there’s nothing wrong with standing your ground. Believe it or not, even the most stubborn of cats will understand a firm, well-growled “no”.

Aim for a balanced, well-rounded relationship. Rather than trying to “dominate”, try to provide your cat with plenty of outlets for her energy. Play, socialize, offer treats and rewards for good behavior, and redirect bad behavior. Being calm and consistent in your rules is much more likely to establish you as the leader in your family than trying to dominate the other members.