There is just something creepy about cats

There is just something creepy about cats.

My aunt used to have one. It would disappear off for hours on end during the day, only appearing back in the house at meal times. Occasionally she would jump up and lay on my chest as I watched telly, and purr. The cat, of course, not my aunt.

That was all very well, but sometimes she’d pull at my jumper with her claws, ripping it to shreds, with no apparent motive. Always with a knowing glint in her eyes that said, “aren’t these claws damn sharp, sonny?”Then when she’d be eating from her bowl, she’d look up and grin, lifting her lip up high enough to reveal a set of long fangs, as it were just for my benefit.Then, some years later, someone told me a gruesome story that if you died in your house, your dog would yelp a bit and eventually lie down next to you and die with you. How honourable. The same person told me that if you had a cat, they’d eventually eat you. I’m sorry, but I just don’t trust them any more.

There’s ginger cat on our street called Chutney. He’s a very friendly cat, and always comes to say hello when I’m outside doing the gardening. Once he made a noise that really did sound like hello when I greeted him. Granted, it was more like “meh-meh.” but I know what he meant. He’s done a lot to change my mistrust of all things feline. Just like Gordon Brown is trying to do now with the labour party. Just recently though, Chutney's been getting a bit too big for his cat boots. For a start, he’s teamed up with this skinnier black cat next door, and loiters around our house, marking his territory by leaving tiny black pellets of shit on the path, which is nice.

One night, I walked into our kitchen before bed to get a glass of water. In our kitchen, we have a cream covered blind covering the window, so with moon shining on it, it stays quite light. Unfortunately for me, one of the cats was sitting on the windowsill outside; and the angle caused a shadow that filled most of the blind, and it really freaked me out. "Rachael! There's a giant cat in our garden!"

We have a bush in that very same garden where a robin once made his nest. We were so proud, that nature had embraced our little garden. It spent weeks building it, and we grew quite fond of seeing the tiny bird flying into the bush through a small hole, with all manner of twigs collected in his mouth. Then, one day, Chutney appeared beneath the hole, staring up into it. He used to come back three or four times a day and just sit there, patiently watching. Then, after about the fourth day, the bird disappeared, and so did Chutney from his spot on the grass.

Now, for the last three mornings at 6.30 on the dot, I’ve been woken up by the sound of a mewling cat outside my bedroom window, sounding most like it was talking to itself, speaking every five seconds or so. “Meh.” Meh-meh”. “Mahhhh.” I went out this morning, bleary eyed and ready to shoo the cat away, but he was nowhere to be found.

There is just something creepy about cats.