MUM: That bloody cat
came in again this morning.
ME: Did he?
MOTHER: Cheeky little
sod! He just waltzes in without a care
in the world.
ME: Does he?
MOTHER: He’s thick, I
tell you. I scream, I chuck water on him
but he still keeps coming back.
ME: (reading the paper now) Hmmm.
MOTHER: He’s feral,
that’s what he is. Feral. Have you seen the
tail on him?
ME: He’s not
feral. He just needs some love.
MOTHER: I’ll give him
some bloody love before long.
ME: (back to the paper) I still think you should report the neighbour
to the RSPCA. (At this point, you should
know that the cat lives next door with no cat flap, left outside in all
weathers and rarely fed)
MOTHER: No
point. They won’t do anything.
ME: Then nothing will
change.
MOTHER: No and my
life will carry on being a bloody misery.
I don’t know who I feel sorrier for. My mother, the cat or me.
Shouldn't laugh, this IS my life. My mother has gone to great lengths to keep next doors cat out. Tell your mum what I do, cats choose their owners, not the other way ;) x
ReplyDeleteI totally agree with you, Donna. I'd feel honoured that a cat chose me but at 84 it's just an inconvenience!!! AND her cat hates the other one. The conversation will continue ...!
ReplyDeleteSometimes I'm grateful my mother and I aren't speaking! Perhaps they could love each other, no?
ReplyDeleteMy mum has a cat of her own - who hates the intruder too! An impossible situation!!!!! Hey ho :)
ReplyDelete