It can be argued that there are no nice cats.
Yes, I know. Some act lovable, will purr and let you scratch their ears. They must be groomed.
They’ll rub up against you. They’re marking their territory.
They’ll lie on your lap. You’re warm, and you hold relatively still.
They bring you “gifts.” “See what I just killed!”
Don’t get me wrong, I love cats. Uh . . . like cats.
Okay, I don’t like cats. I tolerate the little hellion in this picture because she belongs to my son, who is really good at begging.
This particular cat is named “Shiva.” She is pissed because I was teaching my dog – I love dogs – to jump through the round windows of this soft-sided cube.
Yes, it belongs to the cat. But in my defense, Shiva has ignored it for months. I wrongly assumed she was done with it.
Cats are never done with anything. Just because they give no notice doesn’t mean they can’t account for every piece of furniture, blanket, toy, fuzz or fly that may be in your house.
Shiva is not a happy cat today. The dog ran all over her cube. The dog is dead meat. It’s only a matter of time.