It would take you a long time to meet someone who dislikes cats as much as I do. Before you crumple this paper into a ball, or click away, I admit that my antipathy is irrational. I find cats standoffish and enigmatic, and don’t get me started on the cat litter. Thus, when I saw “Cats” the musical sometime in the 1980s, I went reluctantly.

I enjoyed the show more than I expected, considering it was all cats and no plot. And as I left the theater, the songs stayed in my head so deeply that I didn’t need to buy the record. Once those earworms disappeared, “Cats” and I were done.

Luckily for the creative team, many people felt otherwise. Opening during the early Reagan years, “Cats” — that unlikeliest of collaborations between T.S. Eliot (words) and Andrew Lloyd Webber (music) — wrapped up during the second Bill Clinton administration in 2000 after 7,485 performances, making it Broadway’s longest-running hit at the time. (“The Phantom of the Opera” has since taken that title.)

Yet when I learned that “Cats” was being revived on Broadway, one question quickly came to mind: Haven’t we had a challenging enough summer?