Why I don't like cats

Nothing like starting your Thursday morning off with a heart attack.

This morning I was getting ready in our upstairs bathroom, as usual, when I heard the dang neighborhood feline crying outside. A gray tabby cat has been making its rounds in our apartment complex for months and both myself and several neighbors made the unfortunate mistake of feeding it occasionally (darn us for being good-hearted animal lovers!).

In fact, this past winter, I set a bowl of milk out on our back porch one evening because the cat wouldn't shut up or leave us alone. Watching TV was becoming increasingly difficult because there was a little gray face with glowing eyes constantly shoved up against our patio door. And lemme tell ya, even though I really do not care for cats in the slightest, the "Please sir, can I have some more?" look is really distracting.

So the cat keeps coming back and her perpetual meowing keeps annoying Clayton and I. Just yesterday afternoon, I came home for lunch and found her sitting on my next door neighbor's stoop, whining to no one in particular about her stupid cat problems. I meowed back at her a few times and then disappeared inside.

Just like yesterday, the cat sat outside our door meowing again this morning. However, it sounded much louder than it did the previous day and I found it strange that I could hear her so well from the upstairs bathroom. I put down my hair brush and walked to the top of the stairs to see if Clayton had maybe opened all of the windows before he left for work.

Nope. He didn't open the windows. He didn't leave the front door open. The cat's meows were so loud because THE CAT WAS ON OUR STAIRCASE. She sat on one of the middle stairs, just staring at me.

I didn't have time to think about how or why the cat got inside of our apartment, I was too busy wrestling it out from under our bed. I ended up being late to work because I was on my hands and knees, grabbing at a strange cat's tail under my bed. I finally had to grab her back legs and yank her out.

While simultaneously dialing Clayton's cell phone number (when I need to tell Clayton something, I need to tell him NOW), I maneuvered the cat back down the stairs and shoved her outside. She clawed on the door in protest, rightfully pissed off.

That's the first time in my life I ever had to use a lint roller because of cat hair.

And by the way, Joey? Sat on the couch and didn't move a muscle during this entire ordeal. That dog will sleep through anything ...


  1. LoL You have recently moved, right? Hopefully no more crazy cat... I'll hope not, for your sake, at least.

    On another note. You may consider scaring cats away with your lethargic dog who, if you're lucky enough to catch awake during an ordeal, may be able to light a fire under that feline's arse. :)

    Good luck

  2. Baha! I am not a cat person at all either.... We have just started having one hanging around our place, I can hear it's bell jingle outside at night time... Sneaky!


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