My cat's name is Piggy. Piggy-chan, if you want to get technical about it. She's a brat and she drives me absolutely bonkers. She will never be a cupcake, sweetheart, or princess. My cat lover boyfriend identified the problem right away.
"Your cat is a bitch."
And you know what? She is. She wakes me up every morning at 4 to go outside, she follows me around the house whining (although no food, treat, or coaxing seems to alleviate the whimpers), and she loves to plop herself in the most inconvenient places. It's almost as if she senses that if she sits in your chair, that in five minutes you will be needing the use of your desk. Or she will find a warm spot in the very center of my bed, five minutes before I feel the need to sleep. And yet, I find myself worrying when she hasn't come home, or if she hasn't eaten her breakfast. And I can't help taking pictures of her kodak moments. It's a love and hate relationship with Piggy. But at least we're honest with each other. I call her bitch, and she bites me. Consider us even.
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