Pinkle Purr
The fact that that cat doesn't like me is getting to me far more than it ought to. Pinkle Purr, who was supposed to be Emily's cat, is fond of three, perhaps four people in the whole world (she likes my parents and Rebecca and the jury's still out on my brother.) For me, however, she reserves a special loathing which mostly manifests in drawing blood whenever I'm in claw's reach. She growls and hisses whenever she hears my voice or sees me move, and even when I'm feeding her she will growl while chewing and cough trying to hiss and eat at the same time.
Logically, this is not unexpected. She's a cat, she's standoffish, and she doesn't know me very well yet. I've been in a bit of a funk lately, though, which has left me more vulnerable than usual to overreacting, and Pinkle's hatred has taken on a symbolic quality. Every time she hisses at me, she's saying You don't belong here anymore. Why the hell are you still living with your parents? This is my house now. Get the fuck out.
Man, I really need a job. I might be going a little crazy.
Logically, this is not unexpected. She's a cat, she's standoffish, and she doesn't know me very well yet. I've been in a bit of a funk lately, though, which has left me more vulnerable than usual to overreacting, and Pinkle's hatred has taken on a symbolic quality. Every time she hisses at me, she's saying You don't belong here anymore. Why the hell are you still living with your parents? This is my house now. Get the fuck out.
Man, I really need a job. I might be going a little crazy.