When my brother brought Lucy home, I stood there confused. He was fully aware that my parents and myself do not care for cats. But for some strange reason, he thought it was a good idea to bring her home after our cousin couldn’t take care of her. I vowed to stay as far away from this black and white feline as possible.
Lucy had other ideas. Every night when I went to sleep, I felt something crawling across my neck and flopping down. Lucy decided my neck was going to be her stomach pillow. I yanked her off of me, and she hit the ground. The next night, same deal. I moved her. She did it again. By the end of the week, I realized she was not going to give up. And she felt like a fur shawl. So I left her there. In the morning, I realized I had another problem. I needed to use the bathroom but did not want to wake up Lucy.
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How did I get here? How did my restroom priorities become second in command to this cat’s sleeping arrangements? But there I laid, holding myself together until she opened her eyes and quietly crawled off. And about three weeks into this napping escapade, Lucy didn’t hop up on my bed to sleep on my neck. I was concerned and went looking for her. She was in my brother’s room hanging out. The audacity.
Recommended Read: “Kittens almost made me get kicked out of the dorms ~ Shamontiel's Halloween-themed stories for 2023: What happened when she almost got kicked out of college the first time?”
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Could I be turning into one of those crazy women who likes cats? Well, according to UCLA, “crazy cat ladies” aren’t really a thing. Still though, my loyalty has always been to dogs.