When she moved to Paris, my sister adopted a cat. Every time I’m in Nantes, the cat is there but my sister isn’t, so I’m guessing that somehow, at one point, my sister’s cat became my parents’ cat. Like most matters related to my baby sister, I better not ask. I don’t know why she gave up custody of “Émile” (that’s his name). My mum raised the kitten, she feeds him and she occasionally pets him. He probably gets to see Paris a couple of times a year but in the meantime, he lives a sheltered, provincial life in my parents’ small apartment.
I like animals in general, but I like them best in their natural habitat, not going through my backpack or leaving hair on bed sheets. Occasionally, I find my friends’ pets cute or funny but lolcats memes never made me laugh. I hope it doesn’t mean I’m a psychopath… Mind you, I’m not into babies either, I just happen to love the one who came out of me and the little people my friends are raising.
Émile-the-cat loves me. I don’t know why but he enjoys sleeping with me, checking out my stuff and apparently, he wants to play. I don’t encourage him to adopt me. Seriously, Mark is enough work.
Last night, Émile-the-cat went crazy. Either he found drugs on the balcony (we have weird neighbours), either he was affected by the stormy weather, who knows. The result was a crazy cat running around the apartment, emptying my backpack (he seems to love Mark’s clothes), eating bread and scratching my feet “for fun”.
While we were sleeping, he screwed up big time: He jumped on a shelf and knocked over my camera. It fell on the kitchen’s ceramic tiles as the cat meowed with shame.
When I woke up, my mum broke the news to me. She didn’t know whether my precious camera was broken, partially broken or maybe even miraculously fine.
We are a bunch of atheists, I don’t believe in miracles. The camera wasn’t working.
After testing it, it turns out that the lens is broken but the body is okay. Unfortunately, the broken lens is the 55-200 mm zoom but I still have the 18-55 mm lens that was spared.
To cheer everybody up, we decided to take a short road trip to the countryside, but the manor we had planned to explore was closed. So basically, it was one of these merde days.
I’m really pissed at the cat, but how can you be mad at a cat? It’s silly. I threatened to cook it for dinner but at the end of the day, I bought three chicken breasts instead.
The cat is safe for now. Gee, even Mark takes pictures with the Nikon without breaking it…