There's kind of a toll you have to pay with a cat; if you don't

Hear, O seekers of patience and companionship, the words of Scott Adams, who observed with wry wisdom: “There’s kind of a toll you have to pay with a cat; if you don’t pet her for 10 minutes she’ll bother you for six hours.” At first, the saying seems but a jest, a playful complaint about the persistence of the cat. Yet beneath the humor lies a deeper truth about attention, affection, and the cost of neglecting the bonds we share. For every relationship, whether with animals or with people, demands its toll—not as a punishment, but as the price of intimacy.

The cat, independent though she may seem, thrives upon recognition. She will not beg in silence, nor hide her desires. If denied the simple tribute of affection, she will remind you, again and again, that her presence is not to be ignored. This is the toll: to give a small portion of your time, your touch, your care. Refuse it, and you will pay far more in restlessness and disquiet. The wisdom here is plain—neglect breeds demands, while timely attention brings peace.

The ancients understood this well. Consider the Roman household gods, the Lares and Penates, to whom families offered small daily offerings. If neglected, they were believed to bring misfortune, but if honored, they guarded the home faithfully. So it is with the cat: her toll is small, but her response to neglect is mighty. What seems trivial becomes essential, for it represents respect, acknowledgment, and the nourishment of a bond.

This truth is not limited to animals. In history, we see it in human relationships as well. Think of Marie Antoinette, who for years neglected the hunger of her people. When their needs were ignored, their discontent swelled into a storm that toppled thrones. A moment of attention might have softened hearts, but neglect bred six hours—or rather, centuries—of rage. Thus, Adams’s humorous saying about cats becomes an allegory for the way small acts of care prevent great storms of dissatisfaction.

In more tender form, consider the friendships and loves of your own life. A kind word, a brief moment of listening, a gesture of affection—these are the ten minutes of petting that keep bonds alive. Refuse them, not out of malice but out of neglect, and soon the relationship will clamor for attention, demanding time and energy far greater than what a small kindness could have secured. The toll will be paid—either in little coins of love given daily, or in heavy taxes of resentment later.

The meaning is clear: in every bond, whether with cats, friends, family, or lovers, attention is the tribute love requires. It need not be lavish; it need only be sincere and consistent. To give a little now is to buy peace and harmony. To withhold is to invite disquiet, and to transform what could have been joy into weariness.

Practically, this means tending faithfully to the small needs of those around you. Do not dismiss their requests as trivial, for in their eyes, they are the tokens of care. Give the ten minutes—offer the touch, the word, the presence—before neglect turns the small toll into an endless debt. In so doing, you will find that your relationships flourish, and your days are freer from the burdens of unspoken demands.

So, O listeners, remember Adams’s playful wisdom: the toll of attention is light, but the cost of neglect is heavy. Learn this from the cat, whose persistence is but a parable of love. Pay the toll gladly, not as a burden, but as an honor—for it is in these small tributes that the great temple of companionship is built, whether with man or beast. And those who honor this truth will find peace in their homes and harmony in their hearts.

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