Our Himalayan Cats - The Acquisition



When Anne said she wanted a cat, I put my foot down. Short-hairs, I said as emphatically as I could. No long-hairs. Long-hairs leave too much fur around, and they have problems with keeping themselves clean after really messy bowel movements.

So Anne took careful note of my great resistance to long-haired cats. She had friends who bred Himalayan cats, and while visiting them, she had already fallen in love with the latest litter of Himalayan kittens and she wanted one. She knew I didn't want long-hairs, but she did. So she had to find a way of arranging things so she could get her way.

When we got married, there was a strangely wrapped wedding present. Already suspecting something, I ripped it open, and there was a kitty litter tray, some tins of cat food, some grooming aids, and a small toy Himalayan cat with a note to say that the toy one could be redeemed for a real one when the current litter had been weaned. Anne had managed to arrange a damned long-haired cat as a wedding present. What could I do? Say "No thanks" and be really rude? Or give in gracefully? I did neither. I gave in, but not gracefully. I whinged and whined and harped on it as loudly and longly as I could, until Anne was almost ready to call the marriage off after a few weeks.

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