Cats always win in the end

I sometimes decide that enough is enough. No more cats (I have three) sleeping on my bed at night – nor during the day, for that matter. I was fed up with putting my bed linens in the washing machine every week, and pulling not just clean laundry out of the machine when done, but enough fur to make a coat for Cruella De Vil as well (should she ever decide dalmatians are no longer in vogue but domestic feline is) or Lady Gaga (who would, judging by her past form, have to first go on air saying cats should never be coats before deciding to wear several to an awards show).

If I wasn’t in my bedroom, the door was closed. If I was in my bedroom, the door was closed. Oh, the cries. The stories only meowing can convey. But we love you! What have we done wrong? This cannot be happening! You are ruining our lives and stunting our emotional development! 

I stayed strong. I would not surrender. For six days and nights, my bedroom was free of furballs. I was cold of heart when confronted by big eyes and oh-so-cute pussy cat ‘smiles’. Don’t you miss us, Daddy? Don’t you fear the silence that lives where purrs cannot go? 

Away with you!

But then, one fateful evening, I forgot to close the bedroom door. I went downstairs for something, came back and found Jasper. He looked like he’d been asleep for hours. He’d been there a few minutes.

“Oi!” I said. “Off the bed! Now!”

No response. A clever ploy. If you want me off the bed, you’re gonna have to drag me off. 

“Okay,” I sighed. “One night only. And only because you’ve been acting depressed this past week, having to sleep on the sofa.”

Jasper showed no sign of being happy. He just laid there. Only when I got into the bed did I hear a satisfied victory sigh, as I turned my quilt back. Not too far back. I mean, I didn’t want to disturb him. I struggled to get in, then realised the cat was parked in such a way as to keep me on the very edge of the mattress.

“Move over, Jasper!” Nothing. “Come on, shift!” Nothing. “Jasper!” Nothing.

Oh well. A man can sleep with his arse sticking out the side of his bed, can’t he? And anyway, it’s only for one night, right? The door will be closed behind me when I get up tomorrow. It will. Honest.

But look at him. He’s so sweet!  Aw. I do love cats. There’s something about those bloodthirsty carnivores that a vegetarian like me just can’t resist.

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