ONE of the reasons I love cats is because they are affectionate but independent.
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They are less needy than dogs and don’t require that constant attention.
And when you’re ready to chill on the couch, there they are — ready to snuggle in without slobbering all over you like a dog.
Their self-sufficient nature means they are happy in their own company but still appreciate some loving.
Kind of like me I guess.
However, I seem to have got more than I bargained for with my cat.
Smokey — or Ninja as he is more commonly known as, due to his Japenese warrior like moves — is only nine months old but probably weighs the same as a labrador puppy.
I’m not kitten around. Because he loves to eat. And eat. And eat some more.
But not his food.
Our food.
The furmidable snob turns up his nose to cat food, and would rather scab off me, sneakily steal Ayla’s or have a crack at Maya’s.
So leftover porridge doesn’t last long if it’s left on the table — which is most mornings.
Then, when he thinks I’m not looking, he jumps in the bin looking for morsels.
And then meows for more.
I thought purrhaps it could be worms — but he’s too fat.
What goes in must come out, so the litter tray is never bloody empty.
Lucky I have two children who have chores.
And this is their least favourite.
I am toilet training him to go outside so we don’t have to deal with the a-paw-ling stench.
Yes, my purebred ragdoll may look purrfect but his poop is straight from the depths of hell.
Fur real.
And when he is not eating and shitting, he is all over me.
I mean this cat is seriously in love with me.
I cannot walk or sit anywhere without him on my heels.
And I mean everywhere — the toilet, shower and the bath.
One night after a long day at work, I needed some much-needed relax time so I made myself a bubble bath, complete with candles and mew-sic.
But Smokey managed to open the door by headbutting it repeatedly before he proceeded to join me in the bath.
Litter-ally.
Whoever said cats hate water has not met mine.
Smokey jumped on my chest, walked around for a bit and lay down with his tail in the water.
While I have cat hair in my mouth and the sound of a motorcycle about to take off in my ear.
So not the most relaxing bath I’ve ever had.
And sleeping is even worse.
He can’t just lie next to me.
He has to be on me or wrapped around my head before he becomes cat-atonic.
Making it almost impossible to wake him.
Lucky I’m not claw-strophobic.
As for me, I don’t need an alarm clock anymore because my feline friend wakes me up by licking my nose.
Not the nicest feeling but I’ve saved a heap of exfoliating strips, so that’s a plus.
Yes, un-fur-tunately, Smokey has proved to be more high maintenance than I had expected.
So rather than having two children to care for, I am now looking after three. Let’s hope three’s not a crowd.
That could be a cat-astrophe!