I'm surprised to be surprised by this: maybe cats really do consider people their personal servants.
A dog? Now, a dog has got a job to do, and it usually involves barking at me, or sometimes saying very nasty things in dog-speak. But I respect the seriousness with which they take their position as guardians, even when they're trying to bite me or shredding the mail I've shoved through the slot.
But the cats. The cats look at me and say, "Oh, good. You're here. Open this door for me." Just like that, ordering me around. No "hello, how's your day, if you have a moment would you let me in?" Nuh-uh. Every so often one will say, "Open this door for me, please," so I ring the doorbell and continue on my way.
Know what else I'm surprised I'm surprised by? All the pot-smoking! I'm no naif, but geez, there's a lot of pot-smoking going on in this town! I smell it when people answer the door. I smell it walking down the street. I smell it coming like exhaust from the car ahead of me. If we didn't have a prevailing onshore breeze we'd have a permanent cloud of cannibis smog sitting over Arcata.
Wait; one more thing surprises me. In the whole of Del Norte county, the only thing between Arcata and those California-hatin' Oregonians, there is exactly one incorporated town. One!