I wish that cats didn’t hate me.

It’s worse than your best joke falling flat at a dinner party. It’s even worse than returning the wave of someone in the street only to find they’re waving at the person behind you.

Me: (cute voice) Hello little kitty. Here kitty kitty, here kitty kitty. Aw, look at the cute liddle puddy tat.
Cat: (walks away)

They can’t even muster that expression of absolute disgust they do so well. Nothing. I’m not even worth a dirty look. They’re all like that too. I am cat repellent. I’m going to start pretending I’m allergic thier fur, just to lessen the pain.

It’s like at school when the popular girls won’t speak to you because your mother made you wear a jumper from marks and spencer made of 100% wool - instead of a nice polyester mix one from BHS that you have to take off in science because it’s a health and safety risk wearing one that close to a Bunsen burner.

It is a devastating snub.

Because cats are cool, right? Much cooler than dogs, anyway. Cats stay out all night getting up to all sorts. They’re aloof, independent, mysterious. Cats don’t need anyone – they’re just humouring us until the real world order is restored.

But imagine if you see a person (let’s say about 5’11” short dark hair, glasses, strange shoes) strolling/sauntering down the road, and that person is greeted by every cat in the neighbourhood. Tabby cats chilling on garden walls raise a paw in greeting. Big fat fluffy house cats tap their little claws on their living room windows to say ‘fancy coming in for a cuppa?’ Black cats weave before them, crossing and re-crossing their path. And in their wake, the figure trails a long line of ginger cats, black and white cats and grey cats like a feline pied piper. And you can hear them coming from miles off because the sound of happy purring cats is almost deafening.

I believe that person would be the coolest person on earth.