About 200 feral cats roam Disneyland, where they help control rodents.
Spend enough time at Disneyland and you’ll see them. Maybe you’ll spot one snoozing in the bushes near the Jungle Cruise or observing you warily as you ride the tram, but one thing is certain: However many cats you see, there are more out of sight.
About 200 feral cats roam the Happiest Place on Earth, where they earn their keep by helping to control the rodent population. The felines were first seen not long after Disneyland opened in 1955, when they took up residence in Sleeping Beauty Castle, and it soon became evident that keeping them around had more advantages than trying to escort them off the premises.
The mutually beneficial alliance even includes permanent feeding stations for the cats, as well as spaying or neutering and vaccinations. Though not official cast members, these adept hunters — who mostly come out at night — have earned a devoted following of their own. There are websites, Instagram feeds, and YouTube videos devoted to them. They’re not quite as popular as the actual rides at Disneyland, obviously, but for cat-lovers, they’re an attraction all their own.
Of course, cat-lovers are an attraction unto themselves.
“A rare, two headed snake was discovered in Florida today when a cat dragged it into a Palm Beach home. Said the homeowner: Gah! Get that cat outta here!” — Seth Meyers
This site occasionally teases that dogs are better than cats, usually because of jokes like the one Myers told last night.
It’s just too easy. If a meteor unleashed a virus that ballooned domestic pets to the size of Buicks, goldfish would hog pools, hamsters would consume couches, and cats would shred us like mama grizzlies. With dogs, your biggest threat would be slobber drownings. That and concern that dogs hump only your leg.
But in all honesty, as I begin to brush the cobwebs from my windshield to start looking toward a new companion, I wish adopting a cat were an option. Because one of the coolest I ever met has befriended me.
Alas, I can’t own a feline because of the transplant. The immunocompromised and pregnant are strongly discouraged from cat ownership because of the lethal risk of toxoplasmosis, a nasty organism that lives only in cat feces.
That’s a shame, because the truth is, when a cat loves you the way a dog does, it can be more of a dopamine rush.
I realized this after meeting a diminutive Siamese with what feels like a broken tail. She’s a tiny thing, as light as a sparrow. But she isn’t shy about being pet, and will drive her head forcibly into your hand to commence her massage. It’s wonderful.
Esme loved being pet, too. She would hop on the couch (when her legs worked), and sprawl against your side, exposing a pink, bulbous belly that demanded attention.
It was unfailingly, unfathomably adorable. But it came with a price: She farted like a diesel truck engine, and her many bumps and warts made her look like an upended frog. The Siamese, on the other hand, is all petting pleasure, without the silent-but-deadlies.
And cats just feel better. Like a stuffed animal coming to life to huddle with you, but with a warmer, softer coat. The sound of a content cat purring is like hearing a perfectly-tuned violin.
I’m sure I will still joke about the evolutionary differences between wolf and mountain lion progeny. And the fact remains: Feline fanatics will boast about their cats being dog-like; canine connoisseurs don’t brag about their dogs being cat-like.
And I remain a dog guy. Through the windshield, I’m beginning to make out the prospects of a new live-in: tiny roommates; gigantic ones; siblings; duos, entire families.
But the truth about cats and dogs is this: They’re best when they’re a little bit of both.
Nobody knows the trouble I seen…
