To many of my family and friends disapproval, I hate cats. In my mind, Cats look like Rats; and Rats look like Cats! They are sly, conniving little shits whose entire lives revolve around strolling into gardens, of which aren’t their own, and leaving all sorts of unwanted presents masked in the grass. 

A warm summers day, such as yesterday, required more than a gentle breeze from a slit through an opened window. Therefore, with total confidence, I opened the french doors; to which you can find at the bottom of the lounge. After the hairs on my legs became familiar with the coolness I sat myself back down on the sofa. Please note, before this story gets told I am not the inhumane, primal animal described. However, when a Pussy Cat enters the garden, all innocent and acting benign, I quickly fetch a large cup of water, creep (ninja-like) out the back door and soak the cat from head to toe.

So, I was sitting – restfully – in the lounge when, in the corner of my eye, I could swear I saw a rat. Sharply I turned my head toward the door and lo n’ behold, what could I see before me? A cat! We both stared at one another for at least 2 minutes. I could see that the ra- cat sorry, cat, was calculating its next move, as was I. Oddly enough, we both simultaneously moved. As I gradually lifted myself off the sofa, the cat edged a paw over the bottom edge of the door and onto the lounge floor. Rather embarrassingly I began to make deafening dog barks towards the cat, hoping it would do the usual cat glare, then twitch and then run off. Unfortunately, and pretty unnervingly for me, the cat stayed put and remained there for sometime without a single jerk. All of a sudden I became very anxious and a panicky me ensued.

In my head thoughts such as should I… run away, sprung to the forefront of the mind. Analysing this thought I then realised I would need both my Macbook and my phone, which were now closer to the friggin’ cat than I. I began to panic more. Gladly no one was present for the next part…

Without hesitation I turned to violence, I picked up all the cushions in my reach and threw them toward the cat; however not directly at the cat, so please animal lovers, put down the inhaler. With the throwing of the cushions came lots of tribal sounding noises, resembling early caveman speech. Thank the God who hates cats, the bloody thing was scared to its wits end and fled without conscious thought into the garden and over the wall.

This story quintessentially tells you, the reader, my reasons for hating cats. You know that old saying your parents whipped out every so often, they are more scared of you than you are of them. Rubbish! That cat was seconds away from biting my bloody balls off… quite literally.


Speculation complete.

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