Thursday, September 10, 2009
A year of cat
I've had a cat for a year. I've spent most of that year thinking that it's the fattest cat in the world, until my parents took her to the vet to try and sort out her tangled hair and brought her back shaved.
"Oh," says my mother down the phone, "She's tiny. You can see her ribs."
By all accounts, underneath all that fur the poor thing was one meal away from the RSPCA. So, having spent a year telling me it was hungry, the cat is now wandering around going "See? Told you so." It's also remarkably more affectionate, but I'm putting it down to the cat being cold.
The cat has enjoyed its month in the country, spending it proudly dragging in dead animals. Now it's back in the flat it contents itself with hiding cigarette lighters and looking disapproving. See? Still a boyfriend replacement.