so cute (on the outside)
Suzie is the asshole cat who was in my grandfather's possession when he passed away. From what I remember of the first ten years of her life, she was meek, terrified and obese. Whenever I went to my grandfather's apartment to visit, she either hid, ran away or ate in the kitchen (about to run away), behaviors I, too, partake in when confronted with visitors every now and always. Currently, however, she does none of those things. She struts all over our apartment like her name is on the lease and intimidates even the most seasoned pet lover (i.e. me). Her favorite activities include shitting all over my handbags (and literally rubbing it in with her grimy little kitty paws), peeing all over my door frame, terrorizing our other cat, Romeo, and chasing ribbon. She hates me.
i am not making this up
Just look at her in the header - floating down a river of apathy; she does what she wants. Which is wonderful and cool for her life because she's crazy and bitter like old ladies, but every time I hear the pitter patter of her little feet stalking down the hallway, my heart pauses into near cardiac arrest. She whips her head around at me and stares into the windows of my soul, her brow furrowed, her eyes daring me to just try and touch her. PET ME she taunts. So I do. So she lunges. So I bleed.
She hates when I touch her. Unless she is itchy, but I don't ever know if she's itchy because it's not like she communicates these feelings to me like a normal creature. Sometimes she'll rub under my foot which I (MISTAKENLY, ALWAYS MISTAKENLY) figure is an invitation for petting, but it is really an invitation for her to scratch the shit out of my hand once it gets even remotely close to her fuzzy little body. A bottle of peroxide is out chillin on my bathroom sink forevermore.
no for real this is her default face whenever i am around
I'm sure it seems like I'm exaggerating, or that I'm being too hard on her when it sounds like there was some emotional trauma/neglect/abuse going on (there wasn't). But here's the thing: she is in love with my brother. It makes me sick (with jealousy), because while I'm busy turning on the bathroom sink so she can lap at the faucet or carefully unspooling and untangling her favorite ribbon so she can play in peace, she cozies up to him, and glares at me all the while. She won't let anyone else hold her, pet her, hug her or love her.
This is a blow to my ego. Cats love me!! Dogs love me!! Gerbils love me!! Who needs friends!!
My problem with Suzie isn't that she's a douchebag in cat form, or that my bedroom reeks of that ammonia stench, or that I have essentially become my cat's bitch. I mean I guess those are all parts of the problem.. but the worst is that my brother has won. I'm a very sore loser, a sorry sport, there may be no I in team but there is certainly a "me," and admitting defeat is as painful to me as acid raining down from the sky.
Yet I have no choice but to mop up the piss and let my brother gloat. In the end, I guess Suzie is the loser, here. She's really just depriving herself of one of the greatest gifts of all: me.