I hate cats. I don't mean a general dislike towards cats that most sane human beings have, but I truly hate them. They are poor pets and are better for skinning than petting.
Several months ago I let my French Bulldog, Bundy, outside during a storm. He came back a couple minutes later with a cat following him. When I saw her, my first reaction was to grab the shotgun under the couch and shoot her. But being that I am literally in the middle of a small community, the blast would have garnered some undesired attention. Instead I opened the door, and both soggy animals walked in.
I was relieved to see the cat was wearing a collar. That means she had an owner. Someone who would come pick her up before her meowing drove me to feline-icide. After three days of looking for her AWOL owners, it was apparent that this meowing tasty snake snack was abandoned. After a month of living in the same space as this demon, I finally named her Ellie. It seemed she wasn't going to find her way home, and I couldn't throw her in the microwave because of the metal on her collar.
Soon after I named her, she started becoming satan incarnate. Attacking me when I walk by, or while I am trying to sleep. Many nights I have planned on tying a cinder block to her neck and dropping her in the river. After corralling her, I always remember I don't have a cinder block, and put it on my shopping lists. Unfortunately I never follow my shopping lists.
Enough time has passed that I realize that I am really not thrilled with her here, especially since said cat was trained to attack and try to kill every living thing. But I have a plan. I am training Bundy to be a cat-attack dog. Maybe one day this situation will end in a bloody battle to the death, gladiator style. I'm taking bets on who will win. That is, unless anyone wants a cat?
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