Dummy

In a previous post I briefly mentioned a new source of distress in my life: my roommate's cat.

I can't even begin to tell you how much I dislike this cat. This is coming from a girl who, on any given day, has been known to drop by an animal shelter or pet store just to visit with any ol' Rufus or Buddy. I love animals, I hate this cat.

I started out calling it "kitty" as a term of endearment. Rejected. I then moved onto "cat" as a way of showing respect. Denied. I now call it "dummy" or "idiot," even sometimes "horse face." No matter what I call this thing it remains aloof and devious.

The first few weeks of living with it I attempted to be friendly, but every time I crouch down and offer my hand in peace it bolts like a bat out of hell. The one time I got close enough to pet it-- it hissed and I didn't see it for 5 days; however, it did leave a little kitty present of poop in front of my bathroom.

The other night I heard it breathing against my door with it's ridiculous, congested nose. Sniffing and judging. Night after night it returns, waits, and listens. Why? What have I done? Aside from calling it a few choice words and snapping at it with my fingers I've graciously rearranged my life so that we don't cross paths. I only go downstairs to do my laundry if I know this thing has already eaten. I won't use the stairs unless I'm sure it's somewhere...not on the stairs. I even skirt around all it's millions of stupid cat toys so as to not upset the balance in this thing's life.

Ugh, Nerd!

I'm done.