4 Nights With The Devil

I dont like animals. You can't trust them, you can't understand them and you can't reason with them. Sure, some are small enough to be put in cages where they are only a danger to themselves, and I'm just fine with that, but when you have to share a living space with one is when I start to get uncomfortable.
I just spent 4 days in DC with a new set of hosts, who were all friendly enough, though when it came to sleeping I was left to sleep in their living room/kitchen with their cat, Wilson, a 9 month old ginger ball of concentrated cunt.

You'd think with so much in common, we'd get along great, but when it came for me to sleep, Wilson decided to let me know who was boss by doing the most foul smelling shit just inches from his litter box, and playfully scratching me every chance he got.

Gagging through my blanket, I made a bed for myself on the sofa, and lay down, expecting Wilson to take the lights going out as an indication to go to sleep, but instead he repeatedly tried to join me on the sofa, claws constantly out.

Fortunately my hosts had told me I could get him to move by squirting him with a little blue spray gun every time he did something wrong.

What transgressed was me sitting in the dark for 90 minutes (bear in mind people went to bed at 2AM having been at a party), frantically trying to spot and shoot Wilson before he came at me, hoping he would get the message, or at least learn to fear the bright blue weapon I waved in his face whenever he neared me or tried scratching my beloved coat.

No such luck.

I eventually tired, and put on a hoody and more blankets as a defence against his claws and the lingering odour. Within seconds of creating my cloth fort and hiding under it, I felt his weight and spikey paws land on my leg.
For a full 20 minutes, the Gestapocatbastard paced up and down my body, purring loudly, never settling. Around 4 AM, I snapped and deciding I would deal with the consequences in the morning, locked Wilson in the basement.
I felt bad, but he had pushed me to it, but as this little dance repeated itself each night, it got easier and easier. Like murder.

On the last day I gave up, and as soon as everyone else had gone to bed, wrapped Wilson in a blanket, threw him in the bathroom and opened the window, letting the little cooz freeze.

Seriously, fuck animals.