I should have thought this cat thing out more carefully. She’s starting to take over the house. Everything is hers. I’ve tried staring purposefully into her eyes and intoning ‘I am the bosssss’, but I suspect that only works with ill-bred dogs and chimpanzees with low self-esteem. You only need to get mounted and beaten once by a silverback gorilla to learn that eye contact is a bad concept.
I thought I could handle cats- having once lived in a commune with a bondage-obsessed filmmaker and his varying felines. One cat in particular seemed to like to claim the telephone handset as hers, as she frequently marked it with urine. One, I’m almost certain, was a lynx posing as a housecat, and had a growl deeper than Amy Winehouse after a rough night.
But Dizzy is not playing the game. She needs to get out, kill things. It’s just not relaxing to sit rewatching the Godfather, and have a cat silently leap onto your groin with claws extended. That little trick wears very thin, very fast. The children have taken to standing still in the hope that they won’t be attacked, although James claims he has been attacked 107 times (as of this morning). Hannah refuses to get dressed in the same room as the cat, and Jonah has gone from happily kicking the tiny kitten, to having his feet mauled while he sleeps.
A kitty meowing is very cute, once or twice, but not constantly for up to five hours. She loves to do leg-slalom while I am carrying coffee, and has let to learn that humans do not share food off their plates with cats. (Apart from sick humans, who die alone in houses piled high with old newspapers and happy meal toys).
Our security company is charging nearly four hundred rand ($50) to adjust the alarm system so that the cat won’t set it off. Surely it could have been set like that initially? How many cats –despite the reputation- do actually burgle? What would they steal? Cushions with tuna appliqués?
But I’m not giving up. I will not hand over my crown just yet. (Note: Neen actually keeps the crown, but she allows me to play dress-up and pretend sometimes). I will master this kitten, domesticate her. She’ll be my tiny furry slave. Or know my wrath. I’m terrible at wrath- not such a good look on me. Ire is better.
I thought I could handle cats- having once lived in a commune with a bondage-obsessed filmmaker and his varying felines. One cat in particular seemed to like to claim the telephone handset as hers, as she frequently marked it with urine. One, I’m almost certain, was a lynx posing as a housecat, and had a growl deeper than Amy Winehouse after a rough night.
But Dizzy is not playing the game. She needs to get out, kill things. It’s just not relaxing to sit rewatching the Godfather, and have a cat silently leap onto your groin with claws extended. That little trick wears very thin, very fast. The children have taken to standing still in the hope that they won’t be attacked, although James claims he has been attacked 107 times (as of this morning). Hannah refuses to get dressed in the same room as the cat, and Jonah has gone from happily kicking the tiny kitten, to having his feet mauled while he sleeps.
A kitty meowing is very cute, once or twice, but not constantly for up to five hours. She loves to do leg-slalom while I am carrying coffee, and has let to learn that humans do not share food off their plates with cats. (Apart from sick humans, who die alone in houses piled high with old newspapers and happy meal toys).
Our security company is charging nearly four hundred rand ($50) to adjust the alarm system so that the cat won’t set it off. Surely it could have been set like that initially? How many cats –despite the reputation- do actually burgle? What would they steal? Cushions with tuna appliqués?
But I’m not giving up. I will not hand over my crown just yet. (Note: Neen actually keeps the crown, but she allows me to play dress-up and pretend sometimes). I will master this kitten, domesticate her. She’ll be my tiny furry slave. Or know my wrath. I’m terrible at wrath- not such a good look on me. Ire is better.
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I think she's bored. Have you considered getting her a little brother to play with?
ReplyDeleteIf you don't eat the cat, it will eat you. The benefit of getting a little brother is that you must eat the little brother. That will bring about an immediate change of attitude.
ReplyDelete@SMP: Hmm, let me think about that.... hahahahahahaha, No.
ReplyDelete@MDL: Yummy, cat tortillas, heavy on the spices to kill that unique feline-gamey taste.
haha I am with SMP on this one!! Kitty needs a fellow feline to terrorise. Ah I am super jealous actually - would LOVE a cat. Post a pic of yours pleez
ReplyDelete@Caz: Rats! comments do seem to be vanishing... I did post a pic a couple of weeks ago, but she's grown since then.
ReplyDeleteand nope, no siblings allowed!
Hundreds of years ago, cats were worshipped as gods. They have never forgotten this.
ReplyDeleteI am a hopeless cat slave. My furbabies even have their own blog!
@angel: Dizzy has taken over the house, and I am Moses, fighting the slavery.
ReplyDelete