Now We Are Three

Nine tails

1.  Foxy, our new cat, not only came completely free – Katja’s friend Caroline also gave us a litter tray and scratching pole!  Of course, there is the modest recurring cost of fishy biscuits and pricey gravel.  And the completely ignored new basket and obligatory outside cat house. And upgrading the alarm system to ‘pet-friendly’ status.  Plus £300 for French-windowpane-with-catflap.  At least vets can’t cost much…

2.       Three’s a crowd, which is good as getting all the attention wasn’t good for me.

3.      Who said cats are selfish? Mice, voles and other vermin-themed gifts are true signs of affection.

4.      Having freed the garden of furry things, now our feathered friends have flown – what good were the chirpy blackbird family, friendly robin or majestic magpies?

5.       I spend the day worrying about the poor pussy, so rush home early to be studiously ignored.  I learn that the course of true love never did run smooth.

6.       Having slept through the day, nightime is for play; hitting the sleep deprivation levels of new parents is probably good practice (or a timely warning).

7.       I can probably live with the odd splash of wee and sick on the carpet.  And whilst the stench of cat poo is throat-grippingly gruesome, Foxy makes it all ok by flicking it with a bit of gravel.  And she considerately keeps it all in the living room, so as not to despoil the garden.

8.       If you love animals enough to let them share your bed, then (if they have claws and fangs) you have to kill other animals to feed them.  How I have fallen from my meatless moral highground that I now actively fund the slaughter industry – a crushing victory over smug veggies everywhere, surely a good thing?

9.       Cat hairs on the table and muddy pawprints on the carpet are kinda cute; and it was probably time to shred those designer furnishings.

Nine lives

1.       No need to call, email, remember birthdays, apologise for forgetting birthdays; a friend indeed.

2.       I’ve lived in a house with mice and creepy crawlies – cats are infinitely better company.

3.       It’s easy to take life too seriously; it’s less of a risk when you open your house to a crazy, playful fluffball pouncing on your slippers.

4.       She doesn’t laugh at my jokes, but she’s very tolerant of my soapboxing (though she knows to sneak under the sofa whenever the obscenity ‘Cameron’ is spluttered).

5.       It is long recognised that pussycats are uniquely placed to deliver the best pornstar names.  Using the accepted formula of first pet + mother’s maiden name, Katja’s is ”Polly Ulrich”, mine “Candy Nightingale” – proof!

6.       No house is a home without the cat; and maybe without kids, in which case this is good practice.

7.       If it really is true that cats take much and give little, doesn’t that make cat-owning the ultimate in altruism?

8.       Oh, and she’s not just any old cat: our Foxy used to be Amy Winehouse’s cat.  Welcome to feline rehab.

9.       Aw come on look - how could you not love her?