Mark: "Get the hell off me kitty!"
Carlotta: "Meep?"
Chandler: "Snort!"
Carlotta: "Hssssss...."
Mark: "Goddamnit, that little bitch scratched me! I hate that cat!"
This was followed by the lights coming on, revealing the dog at the end of the bed, the cat skittering out the door, and Mark with a bloody little scratch on his arm. I have had Carlotta for seventeen years, and she has never hissed at me or scratched me. For some reason skinny little Carlotta, and skinny Mark just don't get along. She loves me, that's why she was curled up in the bed to begin with, but she and Mark barely tolerate each other.
It seems that when I raise a cat from a little kitten, they take on an obsessive personality about me. Before Carlotta, it was Nina. Nina didn't like anybody but me, and everyone who visited our home knew not to try and pet her because all they'd get is a loud hiss, and possibly some cat scratch fever. On the other hand, every full grown cat that I have adopted or rescued, is sweet as pecan pie. Fat Kitty is an all around lover, and the two girls outside will crawl all over you if you sit down out there. So is this a reflection on me? Am I an anti-social loser who projects his personality onto his kittens, who then grow up to be she-devils? I don't think so. I think it is because I am so sweet and lovable that Carlotta and Nina don't want to share me with anybody. And if you don't think I'm sweet and lovable, you can just go screw yourself.
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