On the train last night, a woman had a cat in a bag. Not a cat carrier, a handbag. It was miaowing like it was having a really miserable time.
Thing is, she also had a bike, so clearly she was going to cycle home after getting off the train. I bet the fucker came close to scratching its way out during that.
I had a cat once (well, twice actually). The first, Sam, left home after a week and moved in down the road. The second, Moggie, was feral and lived in the hedge, appearing only to eat and chase the dogs. This summed them up. I much prefer dogs.
We thought we had lost a cat this morning. The fat one (who has been on a diet, which he hasnāt been enjoying at all) didnāt come for food, and didnāt sleep in his usual place.
It took me a freaction of a second to weigh the upset of the kids against the reduction in cuntishness in the house. Not close.