Meow, Peeow

Here's a great one. So, I used to do housekeeping with my friend who runs her own housekeeping services. Alot of our clients had pets, and some of them were cats. I've never been a cat person. There's just something about cats that annoy me or make me feel slightly uneasy. What annoys me more than cats themselves are their owners who seem to believe that cats should be universally loved, and even if you don't like cats, there is no way you won't like theirs.

Me: "I don't like cats. At all. I'm slightly allergic to them, and they have this nature about them that I just don't care for. That's all there is to it."

Cat owner: "Oh, but you'll LOVE my Fefe."

Me: "Is your Fefe a cat?"

Cat owner: "Yes. You'll LOVE her."

My thoughts: "NO I WON'T! "

One particular cat owning client comes to mind. I'll just call her Overbearing. Overbearing had this HUGE orange cat with constantly spiked up hair, a sightfully unpleasant scrunched up face and a really conceited attitude –even for a cat. I'll just call her Pepe.

One day as my friend and I were walking into Overbearing's house for her scheduled light cleaning, she walked into the room we were in –simultaneously interrupting my prayer for her not to be home to encourage me to cuddle with her spikey, scraggly cat– with Pepe in her arms.

Overbearing: "Hi, how are you guys doing? Pepe's feeling down today."

My thoughts: "Oh, no. That's the worst news I've heard all week. This definitely tops the house fire that was two doors down from my friend's home yesterday."

Overbearing: "Do you want to hold her? Maybe you'll make her feel better."

My thoughts: "I'd rather clean the inside of your toilet with my favorite sweater."

Overbearing: "Maybe you could rub her belly, she really likes that."

My thoughts: "Not even if I were forced to at gunpoint."

Before I could even head toward her bathroom with my favorite sweater in my hands, Overbearing pushed a chair underneath me and plopped Pepe right on my lap.

Overbearing: "There you go Pepe. Ingrid will make you feel so much better.
Thank you Ingrid. This means so much to me."

My thoughts: "This means in two seconds I will be at suicidal gunpoint."

As I looked into Pepe's scrunched up arrogant face, I realized that cats –at least this cat–weren't so bad. When I scrunched my eyes up as much as her face, she looked a little bit like a cute bunny. And her spikey, scraggly hair suddenly seemed a bit stylish. Her face was still as conceited looking as ever, but there was something about her that gave off this feeling of warmth inside –and out. Suddenly my lap was beginning to feel the warmth that Pepe was giving off.
After she had sprung her 60 pound body off of my lap, I realized that the warm feeling Pepe was giving off, was actually the coldness of her conceited heart.
My lap was soaked, and I was pis– ticked off.