Back in February, to prove I’m not a selfish brat, I bought my husband a cat. A cat who made our apartment the seventh circle of hell for the first month as my allergies adjusted to her and since then lowered it to the fourth circle of hell. Cat and I have gotten by on merely tolerating each other since we got her because Hubby was always the buffer. He played with Cat and she left me alone and all was well.

Since Hubby left in July, Cat and I have surpassed the seventh circle of hell and have moved to that place you go when even hell doesn’t want you. Not only must we now tolerate each other, but we have to pretend we like each other for fear of one killing the other in her sleep.

The only thing making this easier is I spend 12 hours a day, Monday through Friday, away from home. But she’s sure to mention that before I’m even unlocking the door. I walk up the steps and I can already hear her yelling at me. For the first 30 minutes I’m home, she’s just yelling at me in her annoying high pitch meows. I don’t know what her problem is. She has food, water, a clean place to shit and doesn’t pay for any of it. Ungrateful brat.

I can’t even sit on the couch and eat a granola bar without getting attacked. She’ll walk all over me to see what I’m eating and sniff it out. I try not to let her do this anymore as this is how she discovered she loves marshmallows and whipped cream.

Her newest ploy to drive me insane is meowing at me when I go on the balcony to have a cigarette. I can hear her meowing at me through the door then entire time I’m out there. When I come in, she meows at me for about 15 minutes as she follows me everywhere.

And almost seven more months to go? I can’t guarantee I’ll still have what’s left of my sanity by then.