On Living with a Cat

Screenshot-2015-11-04-14.40.17-300x275 On Living with a Cat

Who dares disturb my slumber?

Peeps on Facebook will know this morning my plans to get some work done while AJ was still asleep were foiled by His Nibs, who decided to sit on the table next to me and — slowly and quite deliberately — push everything on it onto the floor, one item at a time.

I’ve not had a cat before. I like cats, but I’ve always lived in a dog house, and the dogs I’ve had haven’t liked cats at all. The closest I’ve come to them is visiting a friend who obviously wears that invisible marker that all cats know reads DOORMAT (his latest rocked up at his house as a stray, promptly found her way to his bedroom, and had kittens in his suitcase).

My old neighbours had cats, which bred at about the same rate as the wild rabbits that lived in our garden when I was a kid. First there was one. Then he got a girlfriend. Then there were approximately 24952305 little bundles of black and white fluff all over my garden, winding the dogs up, sharpening their little claws on my trees, and leaving dusty footprints all over my car.

12212189_516858815154816_268308822_n-232x300 On Living with a Cat

The toesies are like teddy bears!

Dogs worship, cats expect to be worshipped. This has always been true, and never more so than in the case of the Dark Lord with whom I am now permitted to share a residence. He turned my coat into his own personal bed (because apparently the new sofas weren’t *quite* comfortable enough), he headbutts me when he wants attention, and the little shit even nipped me the night I arrived because I didn’t pet him fast enough. (For which he was unceremoniously booted from the room!)

But even though he’s the biggest diva in the house, I’m dippy over him. I don’t care that he moults at the same rate I do and I’m fighting a losing battle with his shedding; I don’t care that he only wants attention on his schedule and dammit I’d better cuddle when I’m supposed to and leave him the fuck alone the rest of the time; I don’t even care that he cries to be let into the bedroom at night and then the minute I’m about to sleep he throws himself at the door until I get up and let him back out.

He’s a contrary sod but he’s nowhere near as badass as he likes to think he is, and it secretly warms the cockles of my cold little heart when he curls up on my lap while I’m watching TV, purring so loud it sounds like an engine running. I’ll always be #TeamDog first and foremost, but it is kinda fun to have a cat.

writing-with-pride-banner On Living with a Cat

Liked it? Take a second to support Kate Aaron on Patreon!
patreon-medium-button On Living with a Cat

6 replies on “On Living with a Cat”

  1. This is such an adorable and funny post. I love it

  2. AJ Rose says:

    How do you think he’s managed to keep his lease all these years? I am NOT a cat person, but he’s just awesome enough (I admit, I like his badassery, and I do take notes) to have earned a grudging place in this house. Even though he’s never been mine and I got roped into him being here in the first place, I can’t handle the thought of him living anywhere else. Little shit. He knows how to push my buttons.

  3. I was a cat person for many decades and only recently decided I wanted to rule the roost and not let some furry shithead smaller than a breadbox make certain decisions for me by swanning about or giving me the devil’s eye. The particular cat you refer to in this post hissed at me without stopping the last time I was there. Despite my glares and orders to fuck off, he didn’t desist, jumping out at me from dark corners and scaring the crap out of me.

    You’re welcome to him. 😉 I’ll stick with Suki.

Comments are closed.