I’ve always been a dog person. Dogs are just my kind of people. They are loyal. They listen. They don’t judge. They don’t even care what your breath smells like. They still want to kiss you. They are easy to please and just generally good spirited animals.
Cats…now they are a different story. I had a cat when I was a little girl. I think I was in kindergarten. We had a big, fat, calico cat named Rainbow. And I loved Rainbow. She was perfect. And then my mom accidentally ran her over with a 1970’s Ford Bronco. Rainbow was put in a garbage bag and eventually buried. I think she stayed outside in the garbage bag for a couple of days though. Or at least that’s how I remember it, but that’s a story for another day and maybe another therapist. But ever since Rainbow died, I’ve never really been a “cat person.” We didn’t have animals growing up. Not long term animals anyway.
My older sister worked at the humane society and I remember random birds in our house and on occasion I think my sister would bring a dog home but mom always made her take them back. It’s all pretty fuzzy.
As an adult, I’ve never had cats. I’ve had these two dogs of mine, Athena and Zeus for the last 9ish years. I’ve fostered a cat or two and then they moved on to their forever homes, which were never mine.
Flea Market Guy is a cat guy. I guess he’s a dog person too, but he didn’t bring any dogs into the relationship. He brought 2 cats and a parrot. I brought 7 fish, 2 dogs and a teenage boy. All is fair in love and war, I guess.
I used to really like his cats. The younger one he found outside when we first got together so I’ve been around from the beginning with that one. The older one is from a previous relationship. The older has always been tame and sweet. She likes to be pet and she likes her booty scratched and her ears massaged. The younger one has always been a little bit of a nuisance cat. If you pet her too much she will just randomly attack the shit out of you and then move on. Lately, though, they’ve both been acting kind of weird. I don’t know if FMG got a bad batch of catnip or if being mostly confined to one area of the house has caused them both to become kind of dicks.
The older one has started attacking our hands when we pet her for no good reason. The little one has started acting very attached to me. She’s always sleeping on my pillow or laying on my chest or laying on my hips if I’m sleeping on my side or laying on the desk while I write (like in the picture above). I know when dogs linger around you like a fart, it usually means you are dying of cancer or something. I don’t know what kind of sixth or seventh sense cats have. I’m pretty sure I’m not dying of anything. So I can only attribute it to one thing.
She’s sizing me up like a snake does its prey before it kills.
I’ve noticed that I’ve been waking up coughing in the middle of the night or sometimes my throat is dry. I have read stories about cats trying to suffocate their owners and I think she’s trying to murder me.
Of course, Flea Market Guy thinks I’m crazy, but I don’t really have any other explanation for it, because I think cats are possibly the smarter more manipulative of the breeds in our house. The fish would never think of killing me. The dogs definitely wouldn’t think of it. Even the teenage boy would talk himself out of it if the thought did cross his mind. But the cat… I think she’s got it in for me.
I’m not sure what I did to piss her off, but If I die before I wake, I pray animal control the cat to take…
RouletteWeekend 