Have you seen the new reality TV show on E! called “Rich Kids of Beverly Hills?”

Have you seen the new reality TV show on E! called “Rich Kids of Beverly Hills?”


It features five sickeningly rich, spoiled, beautiful beings exploiting their every move on social media. The episode I watched opened with the two stars of the show shopping to “reward” themselves for a job well done with their blood drive. Kinda hilarious. Or sick.


The episode also involved some major life changes for another girl who is dealing with the anguish of being “cut off” by her parents. But I think her definition of “cut off” just means being asked to shop a little less often, while still living in a mansion and driving a car she didn’t pay a dime for while still basically living better than 99 percent of people in the world.


This is the type of personality that I think Hubby’s cat, Roo, has developed since we saved him from the clutches of this long, cold winter in early November. For reasons unbeknownst to us, Roo has decided that he should spend more time in a less fortunate area of the world (our front porch), “hanging” with the other less fortunate outside cats who actually have to hunt and scavenge for their daily meals. It’s fairly obvious that Roo enjoys the basic comforts of a 24-hour buffet of food and water, a clean litter box and a warm bed to sleep on.


Throughout the long winter months Roo was perfectly content to watch his outdoor buddies navigate snow banks while he lounged on his indoor cat perch (a free standing scratching post that stands taller than me and has different levels of perches for his viewing pleasure). It seems to me that one day Roo woke up, stretched, noticed the snow was mostly gone and decided that indoor living was for the birds.


Every day for the past several weeks he sprints for the door when it is open. On these colder spring days he sits on the front porch shivering and looking pathetic, but refuses to come in. One day I heard a meow that mimics his outdoor buddy, Ollie, when he’s trying to persuade us to let him in or offer him a bowl of food. I opened the door to find that all that racket was coming from Roo. What the?


I read about a recent study that people can tell the difference between a run-of-the-mill ordinary meow and a more urgent pleading meow. Further studies have proven that a cat’s cry for food or attention shares a remarkable similarity to a baby’s cry. In these instances, cats adjust their meows to annoy us, but also to stimulate our natural instincts to nurture anything that sounds like our offspring, even if he is covered in fur and named Rooskie Allen Melheim.


Coincidence? In my opinion Roo and Ollie have teamed up to become master manipulators in convincing Hubby to do what they want. Pure kitty evil genius. Hubby falls for it every time, especially when Roo turns on the charm and rubs his face against Hubby’s in what Hubby likes to call “kitty kisses from Roo.”


What Roo is actually doing is claiming what he sees as his rightful property.


Cats, like many other animals, are packed full of pheromone-oozing scent glands that are primarily used to communicate with other cats on hot topics such as identity, availability and ownership. The most active and important glands that a cat uses to send these messages are located on their tail, the side of the body and the face.


What Hubby thinks are kitty kisses is actually more like a prison yard tattoo that reads, “Owned by Roo.”


Our rich kid of Beverly Hills cat is more comparable to an at-risk teen from the A&E reality show, “Beyond Scared Straight.”


He’s extending his jail yard boundaries by procuring food and buddies as means of self-preservation. And in the meantime fulfilling his master plan to eat, sleep and be merry.