My Girlfriend’s Black Cat
And the cat whisperer
I had just started dating Joan when I met her black cat on a cold day in February. Once I sat on the couch, the cat immediately disliked me. She hissed, turned her backside, lifted her tail, and revealed the most unsightly hole.
“Her name is Tasha,” Joan said, making tea in the kitchen. She’s very protective.”
“Hello, Tasha,” I said softly.
Tasha eyeballed me with her menacing copper eyes and puffy furry cheeks as if to say, “You can say hello to me all you want; I’m not warming up to you.”
“I’m Joan’s new boyfriend,” I said. “Even though I prefer dogs to cats, I would still like to be your friend.”
Tasha hissed and raised his tail higher.
Hm. Maybe I shouldn’t have mentioned dogs, but I wanted to be transparent. Honesty is the best policy with animals.
“You can trust me. I’m not the kind of human who would pull your tail, rub your fur the wrong way, or threaten to put you in a stew — so you can feel safe with me. And I will certainly be kind to your female companion.”
My words did not reassure Tasha one bit. Instead, she gave me an evil eye and crouched down in attack mode like I was a juicy mouse.
