OK, I must confess that I was kinda anti-getting-a-cat for a long time. OK, they’re cute, but they’re also all hairy and they shed fluff everywhere and I sneeze and make with the pink-golf-balls eyes. But, after years of ‘reminding’ I finally caved in and we bought a tiny, wee Maine Coon kitten, called Grendel (who’s destined to grow up to be the size of a Ford Escort by all accounts). So far so good. I rationalised this decision by reasoning that ‘Madam la Peep’ could keep me company on those long days at the keyboard, maybe curled up beside the monitor, sleeping peacefully and radiating waves of unbridled affection.
Anyone who has ever had a cat, and tried to type, will spot the obvious mistake. Me? Never had a cat before – sounds like a good plan, what could go wrong?
Keyboard + cat = dialogue with words like ‘awefawdwx’ and ‘6kiu8989;////////’ suddenly appearing out of nowhere. And **** help you if you’ve just gone ‘Ctr A’ ‘cos you’re about to lose EVERYTHING! Good job I have a compulsive twitch that slaps ‘save’ every thirty seconds. Then there’s the ‘play with me’ period, which involves leaping at legs, knees, fingers and any other bit of exposed flesh (not that I write with exposed knees: I’m not that sort of boy) with jaws agape and claws at the ready. I’ll be lucky if I get through this d***d book with all my appendages attached.