I've had an unsettling week. Last Thursday, in advance of her rightful owner (my landlord bro-in-law's big brother ... it's a long story I might bring up later) a cat moved in to my house while I was at work. Actually she's officially a kitten because she's only about a year old. They call her Willow (some Buffy reference I'm told).
Anyway, though my family has a long unbroken history of dog ownership (specifically white West Highland Terriers of whom there a currently three in situ next door) I've never had a cat or lived in a house with one. I'm clueless about them. And I don't think I'm a cat person really.
I had instructions to just give her lots of love and cuddles and let her sit in my lap, and I'd been provided with a multitude of kitty consumables so that I had no worries in that regard.
There was a 24 hour honeymoon before the claws and the "what time do you call this?" screeching arrived. Willow even stirred up her own shit in the litter tray (which I felt was very un-feline) to create an almighty and unneccessary pong during the weekend. I'm sure it was revenge for the lack of attention she felt was due. Aren't cats meant to be solitary creatures?
[I should point out here I've just had to go and edit out all the many it references above and replace with she and her ... a subconscious signal of how I feel]
Are cats meant to try and clamber up your chest with claws brandished? Do they get miffed if you stay out late or leave them in the dark overnight? Is there a way for me to stop her using my pot plants for target practice? And why are they just so damn ungrateful for your feeding, watering and cuddling. It's like having a mini-diva squatting.
All advice and sympathy welcome. This situation may need to go on for weeks and months ...