I’m not a cat person. I spent all my life being allergic to cats, sneezing in their presence, itchy face and runny eyes. Then my parents decided to get one. Don’t know the reasons why, and I tried really hard not to get a little annoyed at having to take antihistamines every ime I went home, tried really hard not to be dismayed at the liberties this animal took. Let’s face it… cats do what they want to do. End of. You can’t train a cat, it trains you. Case in point: my dad is a retired general. Yeah. Scary stuff. You don’t want a general for a parent when you’re a teenager, trust me, and yet… it’s completely subjugated by this fat red-haired monster that lives in their house.
This weekend they were away and I was in charge of checking up on him in the morning and evening, feeding, change the water (always fresh water, every time he asks for it?… yeah I know, I rolled my eyes too)… paying him some attention. To a cat?? Do I need to chat to a cat?
Whatever. Old people and cats.
So I decided to do this week College reading at their house … ‘to spend time with the cat’. Eye roll no 2.
And then this happened:
He wouldn’t NOT leave me alone. I’m sure he knew he was being annoying… Cat KNOW exactly what they’re doing, because when I was about to fling him off the table… he went all cute on me…
Yeah… I’m onto you….
ps. he’s very very very very soft.