Saturday Is Caturday: Working Cats: The Ones on Payroll Without a Paycheck and...POST YOUR KITTIES and other cat stuff!

 

Every town has them. The vet office cat who slinks around like a mob boss. The library cat curled up on the biographies, silently judging you for checking out a romance novel. The shop cat who “greets” customers by staring directly through them. They’re not pets. They’re employees. Unpaid, untrained, irreplaceable. And unlike your human coworkers, they can’t be fired. A working cat doesn’t apply for the job—it just shows up, clocks in with a nap, and dares anyone to argue.

At the vet, they’re emotional support for nervous owners—and psychological warfare for the dogs trembling in plastic carriers. Dogs come in wagging their tails, leave with their dignity in tatters because Mr. Whiskers stared at them like a loan shark. “Nice kneecaps, shame if something happened.”

In libraries, they’re mascots and archivists, curling up on open dictionaries like living punctuation. They are scholars of dust and silence, connoisseurs of sun-warmed windowsills. Patrons think they’re sweet. The librarians know better. That cat isn’t there for you. It’s there because it owns the Dewey Decimal System now.

In shops, they’re the closest thing to honest capitalism. The bodega cat glaring from atop the bread shelf. The brewery cat making sure no one steals a pint glass. The bookstore cat who has absolutely no interest in you until you start browsing the discount rack, at which point it sits on your pile like a living purchase protection plan. You don’t buy those books—you adopt them because the cat blessed them.

But in nursing homes? That’s where the cats stop being mascots and become something closer to priests. Cats who know—really know—when someone’s about to die. They slip into rooms hours before the last breath, curl up beside the fading body, and wait in silence. No theatrics, no tears. Just presence. They don’t need training. They don’t need permission. They minister without a word, then leave without applause.

Working cats don’t care about your spreadsheets or bottom line. They remind us that presence itself can be work, that comfort can be a career. They are the only employees who can’t be replaced, the only ones who work without even trying. And unlike the rest of us, they never worry about promotions. They already run the place.

photos: The Dodo, The Guardian, Best Friends Animal Society