Sparta’s Expert Assessment of Human Mortality

The argument between cat people and dog people mostly misses the point, but the specific dog-side accusation—that cats feel no genuine affection, merely tolerate their owners as food dispensers, and would eat them without a second thought if given the chance—has always been worth examining. The eating part, incidentally, is basically true of all pets and most large animals, so it proves nothing about cats in particular.

One particularly curious cat owner decided to test the emotional depth of his cat Sparta by faking his own death. Would Sparta grieve? Attempt resuscitation? Fetch help? Perform any action suggesting an inner life organized around something other than warmth and appetite?

Sparta’s response, captured on video and predictably viral within days: some tentative meowing, a few cautious paw-taps at the motionless body, a brief period of looking around in apparent confusion—and then sleep. Sparta lay down and went to sleep.

I can’t say I blame him. What else is there to do? You can’t fix it. The food situation is now someone else’s problem, and you can’t fix that either. You know what helps? Nothing. But sleep is at least pleasant. Our unusual hero had arrived at something it took me years of therapy to approximate: when the situation is genuinely beyond your control, the correct move is rest. Sparta understood stoicism instinctively, curled up, and closed his eyes. The man would come around or he wouldn’t.