On my way home from work yesterday evening, I switched on the radio and found myself listening to an item about cats. Now the cat expert, I assume he must have been, announced that in the USA alone there are over sixty million stray cats. This is indeed a mind-boggling figure. All I could see in my mind’s eye in that instant were the sheer amount of fur-balls being coughed up all over the place. I have to admit that there are lots of furry felines close to where I live in Dublin, but these are mainly those types who resolutely refuse to shave their legs or their armpits. A few won’t even trim their moustache!

Anyway, I was suddenly struck by the realisation that now, in the midst of a full blown Presidential election, this issue is easily on par with the horror and unspeakable fear that Americans have in relation to Mexicans, ISIS terrorists, diets, and the realistic possibility that Trump just might win!. Right there among the very citizenry of the fifty states of the union are sixty million undocumented four legged non-nationals. This is true because no cat that I am aware of has ever put a paw to its chest and sang The Star Bangled Banner and actually meant it.

If any of you reading this actually own a feline then did you know that at all times your cute fur-lined little friend is quietly planning to kill you! Forget about  ISIS and those wall climbing Mexicans. Your cat is already on the inside. It has your confidence. You feed the little bugger and buy it treats. Just take a look at it right now. The bastard just knows it’s in charge?

And have you noticed how they shred and tear up everything? Exactly. This is on par with the Islamic State’s destruction of antiquities. The cat is destroying your furniture culture and what do you do? You buy it a scratch pole so that the purring assassin can sharpen its claws to shred even more of your stuff and…….kill you more efficiently.  Honestly, it’s like giving Bin Laden a good telling off for throwing stones at your windows and them handing him a bag of semtex to keep himself out of trouble!

And we all know that cats bring home dead mice and birds on a regular basis. However, don’t be fooled by this little stunt. This is all part of their preparation to murder you. Yes you. The silly  owner who insists on calling it ridiculous sissy names like Tinkerbelle and Tiddles,  while locked in a delusion that your cat actually gives two hoots about you. Think of history’s most evil individuals for a moment. And what did family and friends all say about them? ‘Well I never.’ ‘Who would have thought it?’  ‘He was always so quiet and kind.’ Sound familiar? Now look at your cat. Kinda eerie isn’t it? But my other hatred of cats stems from the fact that they’re so condescending. Have you honestly ever tried to hold a conversation with one? No. Of course you haven’t because you know that they aren’t interested in anything you’ve got to say. It’s all part of their superiority complex. Your cat thinks that you’re the most boring specimen it’s ever laid its slitty little eyes upon. All it wants from you is free board and lodge, to be left alone and for you to cut a small square hole into the back door so that it can come home after its been out all hours shagging the neighbours.

And after all you’ve done for it, just think about this. Its three o’clock in the morning and an intruder breaks into your home and begins to ransack his way through your jewelry. You catch the thief in the act and try to stop him. He throws you to the ground and then pulls out a knife and begins to slit your throat. Your cat of course, has been sitting on top of the comfortable mantle-piece watching all this from when the burglar first broke in. Now you’re about to die and what does the cat do? Rush to assistance? No chance. Bark? I don’t think so.  Call the police? It couldn’t give a fmonkeys. Alert the neighbours? Don’t make me laugh. It’s counting the seconds before you die! Blood is now gurgling from your open neck wound. It’s all over. The cat comes over to you when you call it which, strangely, the little blighter had never done during the entire ten years you’ve owned it! And what does it do?

It walks past you and plants its arse on the litter tray and takes a dump. Fat lot of bloody good that is?

Laters

9th October 2016.