Cats, adorable and cute, are the perfect companions
Last week when someone called me a crazy, old, mad lady, I responded in grawlix with *@*&*$%£* because you’ve got to be able to take ‘the bants’ haven’t you?
But what did irritate was the failure to include the word ‘cat’, as in ‘crazy, old, mad cat lady’. Or ‘crazy, old, mad cat woman’ if I get to choose, but let’s not get into gender politics when my purpose is to champion my passion for cats.
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Hide AdI’ve never understood the ‘do you prefer cats or dogs’ question because I’d have both - and guinea pigs, hamsters, gerbils, rabbits, a wombat and a donkey - but I’m not in a position to have those so cats it is.
Currently I live with Biggie Smalls, a handsome vintage ginger tom and Missy Elliott, my youngest child’s rascally but beautiful black kitten. (Ownership is important for the apportion of blame, as in “Your cat’s feud with the crows has just turned my walk through the park into Alfred Hitchcock’s The Birds, because she followed me and they recognised us and the entire murder swooped us all the way home. Much to your cat’s delight, taunting them from under my coat hem as we ran.” Outside, 20 plus crows dive bomb the house while a gleeful Missy sits inside on the window ledge watching, chuffed at the kerfuffle, the cat who got the scream.)
I fully accept there are those who are immune to the charms of a fluffy feline such as my friend, who phones to slate emotional ticking time bomb humans.
“That’s why I hang out with cats,” I say. “Apart from the occasional turning of backs if you’ve stayed out overnight, they’re mellow. In fact,” I tell her, “Biggie’s smiling at me right now.” He is, honest, gazing at me in a way no human ever does.
“Smirking”, comes the response.
Nope. Despite the best efforts of the Bond franchise to impute wickedness by association with various baddies to cat actors who’ve innocently turned up to work for treats, none of the cats I’ve lived with have ever lied, cheated, conned, badmouthed or ghosted me. Pure of heart - unless you’re a mouse, where instinct will out. So I’ll always make room for a cat. And if that makes me a crazy, old, mad cat woman, they’re welcome.