I’m allergic to cats. Quite badly allergic to cats. So obviously they fucking love me. After years of scientific study I have come to the conclusion that cats can read minds, affect the space time continuum and I am even fairly sure that they have opposable thumbs. The moment I’m in a room with a cat they sense my unease and stick themselves to my leg sniggering gently. They have even come to sit outside my house to die as one last punishment forcing me to travel round the neighbourhood searching for grieving cat owners to come and collect their own personal fluffy tragedy.
I like animals in general and can almost see why people like cats. They are fluffy soft and practical pets that require no walking. It’s such a shame that they are trying to take over the world. This is not melodramatic – what other animal can coordinate a group team strategy where they shit repeatedly in the garden of any person without a cat for years until eventually with cheeks covered with tears of frustration they give up and decide the only way to stop it happening is to get their own cat. This is not normal territorial behaviour – this is shock and awe my friends.
A couple of weeks ago we took down a tree (don’t judge me too harshly it was looking really ropey) – this tree had been dropping a deep bed of foliage onto our 1930s garage in the back garden for years – creating the perfect cat toilet in the sky for the local moggies. With the tree gone we cleaned off the deep layers of shit in the hope that this summer our garden won’t smell like faeces.
The cats are not happy.
Over the last week a cat has done a shit in our front driveway TWICE. The last one I stepped in whilst getting the kids strapped into the double buggy and I didn’t notice until I’d tracked it over the doormat and through the hallway, also in the process managing to get it on a radiator. This was a big shit. As we were leaving the house I didn’t have time to do anything other than steriwipe (God bless Milton and all who wipe with her) the worst up and shove the boots in the garden. Obviously I then forgot about the boots until the next morning when they had been rained on for about 14 hours solid. I had to go to work so just shoved them in a plastic bag to deal with later. A couple of busy days and evenings out later I came across the bag sitting in a puddle of poopy rain water. I could have just thrown them out but they were expensive and sheepskin type numbers so some serious cleaning was required. They have still not dried out. I am fairly certain the cats planned every… single… thing.
I’m not saying that all cats are evil. Just that I’m fairly certain that when they have finally killed off all humanity they will drive over our graves in celebration in little carriages made of human skulls pulled by strings of cockroaches.
Don’t blame me when this happens – I have tried to warn you..