My Cat is and evil bastard and my Hubby is a complete arse-hole!



Stray-cat now comes into the shared hallway were my little monster was lurking at the top of the stairs. Knowing his evil nature I swoop him up to push him inside.



Cat goes ballistic and scrams and bites hell out of me. I yell for hubby to help me, rather than me throwing the little bastard down the stairs.



Hubby's sleeping! complians at me for calling him, I've drop/thrown the cat into the flat away from trouble.

I know raised welts are the fashion for Halloween but people normally rely on make-up. My right arm is a join the dot puzzle of purple bleeding marks, my left arm has some nice reddish bumps.



Hubby mutters, hubby grizzles. Hubby goes back to bed!



Like I'm in the habit of screaming for him just for the cowin' fun of it! There's a difference between a 'get your lazy arse outta bed already' shout and a 'HELP me I'm getting mawled by a feline devil' scream.



I'm left holding a cloth to one arm fumbling around for antiseptic, he grumbles that he'll go buy me some. I never asked him to go any fucking where! Throwing me a tub of cream from my bedside table isn't exactly a complex unreasonable effin' demand!



Men; the male species. Why the hell do we bother?