Let me start by saying that I love cats. They have always been my favorite animals. My parents have three big, fluffy, white cats living at their house. We've had a whole history of cats at our house. And a few birds. But mostly cats. We're just cat people.
Andrew is a cat person as well. He grew up with Dukie and has been indoctrinating Rachel against dogs from day one.
But seriously, this cat is the most horrible cat in the whole world. Last Sunday when we went home teaching, the cat jumped out of the bushes and started attacking my legs. It then ran off and then ran right inbetween Andrew and I and then started jumping at the baby.
Yesterday I got attacked while walking across the field to the Parks' home.
Today it tried to attack the stroller as Rachel and I were walking home.
It stalks the whole complex. There is no way to avoid it. Whenever I step out the door to do the simplest of errands, I get attacked by this cat.
Oh, sure...it looks docile enough, but deep down inside, I think this cat believes it is a tiger. A big, ferocious, man-eating tiger. Do you see how it is starting at me through the bushes, ready to pounce?
I've never really been afraid of cats. But I am afraid of this one. It's worse than Winter and Simon combined--and that is saying something.
We need a sign for the whole neighborhood: BEWARE OF KILLER CAT!
(Sorry if the people who own the cat read this...I just don't like your cat)