Ailurophobia: Why I have it, now.
Let me be very clear about one thing here before I write this. I am a dog person. I love dogs. Dogs love me. If I end up not getting married, I will probably become a Crazy Dog Lady. Why do I get along so well with dogs? I don't know for sure, but part of it may be based upon a mutual dislike of cats. Don't get me wrong I don't absolutely hate cats or anything. I don't have the desire to run around killing the nasty felines, but I will say that they are not my preferred animal -and with good reason.
Until this past Friday, the above statement pretty much just meant that they don't want me petting them. They may hiss or occasionally scratch me if I get close to them, but it's usually no big deal because I try to respect their feelings and stay away from them. This past Friday, however, something went horribly wrong.
I have a part-time job after school watching a special-needs child. It's a pretty simple arrangement. I go over to his house every afternoon, wait for him to get off the bus, let him in, and then keep an eye on him until his parents get home. He doesn't talk much, so I don't talk much. Unless the dog sneezes. Then I feel obligated to say, "Bless you." Yes. I am strange, but I digress. So... This kid and I coexist peacefully every afternoon. All is quiet. All is well. Right?
Until the family's crazy demon-cat escapes from the room they keep her locked in when other people (such as myself) are in the house because even they call her "the cat from *an extremely warm region below the earth's surface*."
Anyway... Bonnie (Sounds sweet, doesn't it? LIES!!!) got out of her room, unbeknownst to me.
After I got the kid off the bus, I went to get my laptop off the couch. Much to my surprise and dismay, between me and my laptop sat a snarling hairball. With those creepy glowing eyes that cats have, she glared me -all while sharpening claws that she only wishes she had. For a moment, I wasn't too sure what to do. I figured I'd better just leave her alone, but she apparently wasn't satisfied with my walking away. Before I could even get to the other end of the room, she was running toward me, hissing and trying to BITE MY SHOES! I screamed and took off down the hallway -which was a bad choice because it allowed her to corner me. Thankfully, she slipped on the hardwood and slid past me, so I was able to run the other way.
Once she regained some traction, the nasty beast turned around and started chasing me again. We made a lap around the living room, followed by a lap around the kitchen, before I finally ran into the dining room and shut the door. I could hear her snarling from the other side and I could hear the kid yelling in the living room. Easing over to the other door in the dining room, I figured I might be able to escape onto the back porch. I was wrong. By the time I reached the other door, Bonnie had looped back around and was waiting for me there.
At that point, I was in a bit of a panic. My dislike of cats had turned into a full-fledged fear. The house was in a total uproar. The dogs were going insane, the kid was yelling and trying to chase the cat with a broom, the already-psychotic cat was getting angrier by the minute, and I was about to have a heart-attack.
After about ten minutes (after I convinced the kid to leave the cat alone), everything quieted down and I decided that I should probably try to venture outside of the dining room. I'll be honest. You know that last scene from All's Quiet on the Western Front? The one with the butterfly? That's what it felt like. With great trepidation, I slipped out of the dining room and tiptoed into the living room. There was no sign of Bonnie. I was a bit startled when the kid suddenly emerged from the kitchen with a Pop Tart. he thought it was funny and laughed for a minute or so before saying, "Not in there, Ashy..." By the sheer grace of God, my boss got home shortly thereafter and I didn't have to fool with the feline foe again, but let me just say... my nerves were shot.
I have never particularly liked cats and, as of last Friday, I really do not like cats.
If you are a cat-lover you are a bad person and I don't like you, either.
Just kidding. That's not true.
Hate the sin, love the sinner.
Again. I'm kidding. It's not a sin.
Just keep your cat away from me and we're good. Deal?
Oh... In case you haven't figured it out by now, that big word in the title of this post means "fear of cats." =)
Cats pretty much always hate me.
Until this past Friday, the above statement pretty much just meant that they don't want me petting them. They may hiss or occasionally scratch me if I get close to them, but it's usually no big deal because I try to respect their feelings and stay away from them. This past Friday, however, something went horribly wrong.
I have a part-time job after school watching a special-needs child. It's a pretty simple arrangement. I go over to his house every afternoon, wait for him to get off the bus, let him in, and then keep an eye on him until his parents get home. He doesn't talk much, so I don't talk much. Unless the dog sneezes. Then I feel obligated to say, "Bless you." Yes. I am strange, but I digress. So... This kid and I coexist peacefully every afternoon. All is quiet. All is well. Right?
Until the family's crazy demon-cat escapes from the room they keep her locked in when other people (such as myself) are in the house because even they call her "the cat from *an extremely warm region below the earth's surface*."
Anyway... Bonnie (Sounds sweet, doesn't it? LIES!!!) got out of her room, unbeknownst to me.
After I got the kid off the bus, I went to get my laptop off the couch. Much to my surprise and dismay, between me and my laptop sat a snarling hairball. With those creepy glowing eyes that cats have, she glared me -all while sharpening claws that she only wishes she had. For a moment, I wasn't too sure what to do. I figured I'd better just leave her alone, but she apparently wasn't satisfied with my walking away. Before I could even get to the other end of the room, she was running toward me, hissing and trying to BITE MY SHOES! I screamed and took off down the hallway -which was a bad choice because it allowed her to corner me. Thankfully, she slipped on the hardwood and slid past me, so I was able to run the other way.
Once she regained some traction, the nasty beast turned around and started chasing me again. We made a lap around the living room, followed by a lap around the kitchen, before I finally ran into the dining room and shut the door. I could hear her snarling from the other side and I could hear the kid yelling in the living room. Easing over to the other door in the dining room, I figured I might be able to escape onto the back porch. I was wrong. By the time I reached the other door, Bonnie had looped back around and was waiting for me there.
At that point, I was in a bit of a panic. My dislike of cats had turned into a full-fledged fear. The house was in a total uproar. The dogs were going insane, the kid was yelling and trying to chase the cat with a broom, the already-psychotic cat was getting angrier by the minute, and I was about to have a heart-attack.
After about ten minutes (after I convinced the kid to leave the cat alone), everything quieted down and I decided that I should probably try to venture outside of the dining room. I'll be honest. You know that last scene from All's Quiet on the Western Front? The one with the butterfly? That's what it felt like. With great trepidation, I slipped out of the dining room and tiptoed into the living room. There was no sign of Bonnie. I was a bit startled when the kid suddenly emerged from the kitchen with a Pop Tart. he thought it was funny and laughed for a minute or so before saying, "Not in there, Ashy..." By the sheer grace of God, my boss got home shortly thereafter and I didn't have to fool with the feline foe again, but let me just say... my nerves were shot.
I have never particularly liked cats and, as of last Friday, I really do not like cats.
If you are a cat-lover you are a bad person and I don't like you, either.
Just kidding. That's not true.
Hate the sin, love the sinner.
Again. I'm kidding. It's not a sin.
Just keep your cat away from me and we're good. Deal?
Oh... In case you haven't figured it out by now, that big word in the title of this post means "fear of cats." =)
One time, a cat peed inside my violin case. AH!!!! I hate cats. I hated them before, but peeing inside my violin case?! No thank you.
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