They are sneeze-inducing, flea-producing, overgrown rodents that are, quite frankly, a menace to society.
As they say, "The only good cat is a dead cat", and I heartily concur. Me, along with the millions of other cat-haters who deliberately swerve their vehicle on (and off) the road towards the furry felines, in fervent hopes of making this world a better place--one flat cat at a time.
Oh, I am not totally heartless. I must confess--I had a cat once. He was a marbled, grey-and-white long-haired beauty, claiming ancestry in the noble breed lineage of--"Cat." (Admit it--a cat is a cat is a cat). I think I may have even loved him--for a full five minutes until our ancient furnace kicked on and scared the bajeebers out of pretty kitty so badly, he screeched through the house and tore up the mini blinds.
That cat now lives in Cleveland. Need I say more.
And from that day on, our household thrived in a blissful era of sneeze-less, cat-less harmony.
Until last night.
Last night, the unthinkable happened. An evil, stray feline, whom I'm convinced is the spawn of Satan, slithered into the upholstery shack (after midnight, of course, when sin roams the earth), and claimed the heart of the talented, yet somewhat naive towards feline wiles, Handsome Upholstery Guy. With naught but a curl of his tail and purr of his...his...evil cat-ness, the fanciful feline stole the heart of the Handsome Upholstery Guy, while the rest of us slept innocently next door.
Then this morning arrived. Handsome Upholstery Guy confessed to the crime, which I'll admit, sounded pretty darn cute. To be specially adopted by a stray cat, particularly without the aid of a steak bone or pork chop is really one of nature's rare feline wonders, and I was somewhat eager to meet this meow-ing marvel.
However, after popping an antihistamine and scanning the deck where kitty was last seen, I admit I was not overly crushed to find it empty.
Because you know I hate cats.
So when I sat down to enjoy my morning cup of coffee, you can certainly understand the horror that surged through my veins when from the dew-kissed planks of our house's side deck (ok, it was really sprinkled with ill-aimed stinky diaper bags from the evening before), squeals from my children arose, alerting me to the return of evil personified in feline form.
That darn cat!
I made up my mind then and there I was not going to love him. Remember, I hate cats. Any logical person must understand my sentiments.
The children certainly hated him.
Raspberries to you, evil kitty. You'll not steal a piece of my heart!
You are terrible with kids, ferocious kitty. You really need to leave.
The sandbox is not your potty, rancid kitty. Go...away...
Stop staring at me, crazy kitty. You know I hate you...
and would never hold you...
So scat!
I'm not going to let you inside.
No, I am going to stay strong. For the good of my family. For the good of society. For the good of all cat-haters across the world.
Because I. Hate. Cats.
Achoo.
I'm right there with you as a cat hater. That's a cute kitty though. Who named him? We considered getting a cat as an outlet for our boys. Maybe someday.
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