When he was younger I teased The Teenager that when we left for work/school, the cat would jump onto the sofa, switch the telly on and watch QVC. He believed me for years, bless him, but recently I’m beginning to think it’s true.
Now I’m working from home, the cat is engaged in a campaign of warfare against me for invading her territory day after day.
Back in the bad old days of MS, when I was having continuous relapses, the cat was an angel. She would curl round me as I lay on the sofa, lie next to me in bed at night and she was just generally sweet and comforting. If she could have made dinner and washed up, I’m sure she would have.
Now though, she torments me. I wouldn’t be surprised if she changes the locks next time I leave the house. I sit at my desk trying to work and she is there, shooting me evil looks. I make a cup of coffee and I find her next to the kettle. I go upstairs to fetch something and she is on my bed, glaring at me. The only time she seems happy is when I put my coat on to go out. She trots around the room, purring. When I get back in, she starts the weirdy-staring thing again.
And she miaows constantly. It used to be cute. The cat rescue place warned us she was ‘a talker’ when we chose her. How lovely! How sweet! Now it drives me to distraction. I snickered when she miaowed so hard she lost her footing and fell off the window sill, but the next day she threw up all over my sofa.
So we are uneasy house-sharers at the moment. We circle each other, neither of us willing to give way. She knocks over ornaments and picture frames. Deliberately? She wants out, then she doesn’t. Then she does. Then she won’t go out the back door, insisting she goes out the front window instead. She drapes herself on the bottom stair. She lays mangled, decapitated birds and mice by the back door and once brought a live mouse inside. We still can’t find it.
I’ve got news for her though. I was going to buy her a Whiskas stocking for Christmas, but she’s just been scored off my Christmas list. So there.