Why I am not a cat person…

Don’t get me wrong, I like cats. I think they’re very nice to look at on YouTube. I also like cats in cartoons, like Garfield, because he talks and at least tells you when he wants a lasagne instead of scratching at your door in the night like the Exorcist. Now, Granola here might look cute…

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…but that’s my bed she’s lounging on. And we’ve not even known each other a week. I said to her, “Granola, seeing as you’ve woken me up at 6.50am precisely for the past three mornings with your freaky, inexplicable inner cat alarm clock perhaps you’d mind not shedding fur all over my bed as soon as my back is turned? You make me sneeze, you see?” But does she give a shit?

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Does she fuck.

I forgive her obviously, because she’s got that fuzzy little face and whiskers and paws, but when she yawns the yawn of a long dead, festering fishmonger and licks her arsehole on my pillow, well, that’s just taking it too far. It’s rude. Cats are rude.

Granola meows a lot too. Now, I don’t mind this because at least it reminds me she’s there and I’m supposed to feed her. Otherwise I might forget, the way I forgot about my rabbit once, before it froze into an ice block in its hutch. I just don’t like it when she meows AFTER I’ve fed her and looks at me like I’m supposed to do something else. I feel bad in these moments, like I’ve failed. Like, you know when you think you’ve done something well but it turns out you were kidding yourself and actually, everyone thinks you’re a massive loser?

We stare at each other for a while, both confused and sad. She licks her bum again and I tell her “I’m sorry, I don’t know what you want from me, but if you don’t mind giving me some space I’m going to do some Pilates now. I’ve only been doing it a while so I’m quite self conscious and not very good yet, and I’d appreciate your support, as a housemate.”

She looks at me all “Sure Becky, no problem”, and then as soon as I’m on the mat she’s lying next to me pulling moves like this:

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I mean… really? Is that not just taking the piss? I’m killing myself trying to touch my own toes… it took me 33 years to even purchase an exercise mat and you’re lying there on MY chair, wrapping your tongue around your sodding vertebrae and STILL eating Whiskas out of your own bumhole.

It’s just mean.

You’re a terrible housemate Granola.

Even though you’re cute.

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