The Worst Person in the World

The worst person in the world?

That would be me. 

According to the cat. 

It was a simple act. You'd think I'd run over his puppy, stole his girlfriend and turned up at his wedding wearing a white dress and gave him an excruciatingly bad haircut.  

What have I done that has brought on such angst?

I put a spot of flea and worm treatment on the back of his neck.

As an inside cat, with no contact with the outside world, I don't do this often. 

Regardless, he's spent the day with his nose completely out of joint. If I went into a room, he ran out of it. If I went to give him a pat, he ran away. He wouldn't sleep on his bed, instead lying in the windowsills. If I went near him, he gave me stink eye. He didn't even demand treats during the day. Oh, and he's been rolling around on the mats trying to get the stuff off his neck. He never does that. He's been acting like a beagle. 

You'd swear the stuff was poisonous. It's not. But according to him I've slathered him crap. 

Yes, I am that awful. I'm such a bad mother. 

All day. All day I've been frozen out. 

He deigned to let me pat him when I fed him dinner at 6 p.m.

And after going out for an hour for a walk, he appeared to be in a better mood. He's sitting next to me in the windowsill, probably plotting murder. 

I'm glad I never had kids. 

And the next time he gets a worm and flea treatment, I'll do it at his yearly check up at the vets - and I'll let the vet put it on when he's wrapped up like a sushi roll and he can moan about the gel on his neck and the indignity of being poked and prodded by the vet. 

And this is why his claws don't get clipped. 

Bloody animals. 

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