This is a Christmas card sent to me by Kat the Cat.
To be slightly more accurate, it is a card that came in a package from my mum, with an accompanying note explaining that “she was sick that day, which is how we managed to get away with it”. I must say that I just love how incredibly pissed off she looks about the whole situation.
Is it pathetic to miss a cat as much as I miss Kat?
We had our tense moments, Kat and I. We wound each other up, we fell out quite regularly, we injured each other on several occasions… but she was my best friend, you know. Sniffle. I remember the time she went missing, not long after I’d moved house, and The Neighbours eventually found her in their back yard, captured her, and danced gleefully down my garden path in the early hours of the morning to return her to her joyful owner (that’s me). I remember all the times she got stuck on the conservatory roof and I nearly broke my arm when I inevitably fell off a wall in the rescue attempt. I remember the familiar tinkle-tinkle-tinkle of her collar bell as she trotted up the stairs every night when all the lights were out. Then a pause and a thump as she jumped up on to the bed, circled me a few times, and lay down suddenly in the crook of my knees, satisfied that everything was as it should be and she could go to sleep.
She used to get really annoyed and jealous if I was reading a book, and would repeatedly try to position herself between the book and my face until I gave up and cuddled her instead. Slightly more inconvenient were her favourite hobbies of chasing my fingers as I typed on my laptop, and of edging closer and closer to said laptop until she’d managed to sneakily lie down on the keyboard, because she liked the warmth.
Still. She seems to have settled down nicely with The Parents, although there have been a few disagreements, and last month I did find myself starting an email to my mother with the words “I’m so sorry that my cat broke your ribs”. Kat has personality, you see.
I miss my sassy cat.