Ang freaks out about cats.

[allana]

I knew it!  I fucking knew it!  The cats of this world are out to get me!  A huge, fat ginger cat infiltrated the garage this evening and sat mewling at the firedoor.  I assumed it was sitting outside the window--it often sits under the front window amongst the straggly carnations--but then the mewling got much louder, and there's no reason for a cat in the flowerbed to mewl so pathetically.... I suspect it wanted to snack upon my eyeballs.  Or perhaps my liver?

Dave is my hero.  He picked it up and carried it outdoors, while I cringed on the sofa.  It looked like a stuffed cat, tucked under his arm, legs sticking out poker straight.  That's something I never thought I'd see: Dave with a cat under his arm, like a newspaper.

I don't know how I can be so terrified of cats, yet adore Garfield.  And I've now realised that I've turned into one of these annoying people who journals every second of their life.  Dammit.