How to Coexist with a Cat that Hates You
- When you sleep, I walk on your boobs
That picture to the right is one of my cat, Zsa Zsa. And that look of utter disdain and contempt has been her daily expression for the past three years.
When I first got Zsa Zsa, she was homeless, half starved and in heat, so of course she acted sweetly towards anyone that would feed or impregnate her. After two weeks of gorging herself on premium catfood and getting spayed, the tables turned. There was no more cuddling with me in the afternoon sun or joyful mewing when I returned home from work. Oh no. It was either acts of calculated violence or sheer apathy. There would be nights I’d be walking around barefoot in my apartment and the stupid cat would launch herself from underneath a couch or bed and attack my feet with the velocity of a feral Tasmanian Devil. When I would plead to her about how my feelings were hurt and give her peace offerings of catnip, my efforts would be ignored entirely.
In the coming years, Zsa Zsa would make up new ways to destroy my life. She would crap in my brand new $150 leather pumps or attack boyfriends while they were sleeping, drawing blood from their faces and arms. I ended up alone and shoe-less because of my evil, evil cat.
By nature, cats do not show their masters the kind of intense devotion and love that their canine counterparts do. They’re much more self-sufficient, and that’s why I like them. But owning a creature that outright loathes you is different. It turns your apartment into a constant warzone where you have to wear shoes all of the time in case a mad furball of tooth and claw bull rushes you.
So what do you do? Do you raise a little white flag and surrender? No. No you don’t. You fight. You arm yourself with all of the catnip and little gray fake mice and cat treats money can buy. You purchase a second kitty-litter box and clean both of them daily so she has a pristine place to crap every day. You sleep huddled on your side of the bed, practically falling off of the edge, and allow her to have the entire rest of your queen size mattress. You no longer invite boys over. You buy the high end expensive catfood that contains real duck meat. You wear boots around the house.
I will own this cat until I’m at least 40. That’s only 13 more years. 13…
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