The Old Cat Lady.

At the request of a friend, I'm doing a blog about cats.

I. Hate. Cats.
With a fiery passion that burns hotter than a thousand splendid suns.

Kittens, on the other hand, I adore. They're too cute.
But once they're older, they're boring. They just lie around and lick themselves, just to cough up hair balls.
Disgusting.

If you were to give me a kitten for Christmas, I'd re-gift it the next year with no remorse.
Although, maybe if I got said feline when it was a kitten, I'd be ok with it as a cat. But I don't know. For now, I'll hate cats.

And it's because of a cat I had a near-death experience.
I was riding with friends, and was turned around in the car (which was moving way too fast). A cat ran out in front of us, and the dearest driver slammed on his breaks, sending me flying through the car. Ouch. I hit my butt on the dash, and nearly broke the mirror with the back of my head. it was not a lovely experience.

One of my friends is determined to become the old cat lady. She says she will have like... 48.5 cats one day. I say more power to her.
Who am I to object if she wants to smell like tuna and kitty litter for the rest of her life? She can enjoy her days of litter scooping and can opening.
But it's not for me.

So, Brendan, here it is. My post about the vile creatures we call cats.

[Enjoy]