I may have mentioned it before but, just in case, I want to let you know again. I have a mean cat. Her name is Sophie. And yes, she is pretty. But she is mean.
It never fails that I have some form of the following conversation when people first encounter Sophie.
Them: "OOOOHHH... is that your cat!? Look at her! She is so pretty."
*They begin to approach her.*
Me: "Yeah, she's pretty but she's mean as hell. Don't try to pet her. She will scratch you."
Them: "Ooooohhhh, I'm sure she's not THAT mean."
Me: "I promise you she is THAT mean. She will scratch you."
*They start to reach to pet her as they turn to me."
Them: "I'm an animal person tho---- OUCH. SHIT!! SHE JUST SCRATCHED ME!!"
They look at their wound and their mouth drops open. They turn to me and hold up their appendage to show me the blood. I stare at their facial expression, which combines elements of betrayal and surprise. I look at their sad eyes and their mouth contorted into a perfect "O" of unexpected pain and my heart, just like that of the predestined Grinch's, begins to grow.
Just kidding. I TOLD YOU SHE WOULD SCRATCH YOU.
I shrug and let them know where the band-aids are with a tone that implies a certain level of wussiness if they actually go and get one.
They usually follow up with some comment/question about why she lets me pet her. She is my cat. I feed her every day. I put up with her bullshit and when she thinks I have left her alone for a night, she shits somewhere that is hard to clean and that is not her litter box just to let me know what she thinks of me. I guess that's her way of showing she loves me. And, to quote J. Giles Band "love stinks."
So, to my tens of followers, this PSA is for you.
I HAVE A MEAN CAT. Despite what her fluffiness might portray, she harbors a certain level of darkness that should have gotten its own level in Dante's Inferno. Don't pet her. She will scratch you. And if you do pet her, don't come looking to me for sympathy. Idiot.
Have a nice day.