Libby

She looked at me with the look of someone who had just sniffed a beautiful flower and got a face full of spider’s web for her troubles. I was well used to that look. It was nothing new. I knew I was a disappointment to her, I knew I hadn’t lived up to her expectations.  I never did these days, whatever I did, however I did it, I’d get that look.

It wasn’t always like that, of course not. She had been a playful little kitten, full of fun and energy and loving everything I did, we had bundles of fun together and there was nothing she liked more than curling up together on the sofa watching a film or listening to music. Back then I didn’t even have to try, she was unconditionally mine. But things change, as Billy Bragg said you have to learn to take the crunchy with the smooth. It didn’t happen over night, it was a gradual decline. Familiarity breeds contempt I suppose. I don’t blame her, it was as much my fault, if not more so. I lost interest in her, didn’t have time for her, lost in work and the internet.  So it wasn’t surprising that she started having more fun when she was out and about than when she was stuck home with me. She became reluctant to come home preferring the company of others. Even when I prepared a meal for her, I often had to call her to get her home.

So these days we don’t so much co-habit as co-exist. She walks around the house sulkily avoiding me whenever possible while I try my hardest to impress her. But the tricks of old don’t work any more and to be honest I’m out of ideas.  So come on people, how do you get a 3-year-old cat to love you again?