The cats used my house as a hotel to eat and pee.
“I don’t want her to run into other men and get pregnant, so I won’t let her go outside,” my friend Hasan told me. “But you can’t keep her inside forever, that’s abuse,” I told him. We were talking about his cat. Hasan and a friend came to stay. They had brought their pets. My housemate Ahmad and I are actually a bit afraid of animals. We didn’t want to be inhospitable either, so we decided that the animals could come along anyway. What could two little cats do to us, we thought. One of the cats is a cat. He tries to keep Hasan at home. The other is a hangover, stripped of its masculinity. I find that pathetic.
For two days at home, we only heard Ahmad scare the cats. That was his strategy to deal with the cats. I had another plan: to keep them as friends. I was sitting on the couch watching television when I suddenly smelled a foul odor. I asked the guest: “Do you smell that too?” “He said,” Oh oh, maybe he peed somewhere … “I immediately felt less friendship for those animals. They used my house as a hotel to eat and pee. I became increasingly angry with them, because I also had to get out of bed in the middle of the night to find the hangover outside.
I walked down the street and I said, “Kattie, pussie!” “When I met someone, I pretended to be singing. We found the hangover and took it home. I spoke to him sternly and told him to follow the rules of this house. “You are a guest here, my house is not a hotel.” “After my speech, the cat just walked away. As if I was talking to the wall.
After the friendly guests with their thankless cats left, I washed the house for days. Never again.