Thursday, 19 July 2007

Evil Cat

Milord has a cat from his previous life. Her name is Portia and his friends call her Satan. She's a russian blue (probably), and is the unfriendliest animal I have ever met. Unless she's hungry, of course.

People who haven't met her, and who hear me talk about her, accuse me of hating cats. I don't hate cats. I'm not wild about them, and I have to be careful after petting them to wash my hands quickly because I am slightly allergic, but I don't mind them at all. In fact I can play with a kitten for hours, and have been known to pet a cat for ages if it sits in my lap while I'm watching TV.

This one is different. I once asked m'Lord if he got her from a rescue shelter for abused cats because she dislikes being stroked so much, especially near her hindquarters, but he says no. Apparently many years ago a child knocked on his door with a tiny kitten, saying it had been found and had he lost one. An hour or so later the same child knocked again saying did he want it as they couldn't find it a home and m'Lord and his then Lady had cat already. So they took it in.

12 years later he still has an aloof, grumpy, fussy, unfriendly parasite in the house. Not the ex, the cat. She won't eat the same food two days running, she won't let herself be brushed, she doesn't play and she growls at our friends. I don't see the point.

Recently she developed an overactive thyroid or something, which has made her even more grouchy and she can't stand to be touched. She wind around my legs vocalising while I'm cooking, begging for attention, but the moment I bend down to stroke her she acts completely offended.

When my friends say they'd love to get a cat I offer them Portia, but they always say "Not yours, it's horrible".

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