Disclaimer: The following article contains explicit language and is satirical in nature.
As she tells me of how she packed up her student room in Southampton, saying goodbye to student life forever and how overwhelmed with emotions she was, newly graduated Psychology student Hope Fuller shifts in her chair at the coffee table we’re at.
Saying goodbye to friends and the city that she had grown to love, she was torn, as she also felt excited to return home and start a new chapter in her life. Nerves gripped her, as stepping out of the house felt like stepping into the unknown. Most of all, she couldn’t wait to be welcomed home by her family and old friends.
Hope then tells me how as the train drew into her sleepy town in Somerset, she hurried out of the station, passed the old pub, cut through the park, dashed past some dawdling mothers with pushchairs, and slowed right down to avoid making small talk with Phil, the neighbour. Finally, she laid eyes upon the door of her childhood home only to find Squeak, the cat, licking his arse on the Home Sweet Home mat.
‘He just stared at me‘, she says as she drains the dregs of her latte. Our eyes lock. ‘He wouldn’t stop‘.
I ask what happened next.
‘I got closer to pet him and he just f****d off, the bastard’.
Reports from many family homes suggest similar incidents. Wessex Scene put out a statement last week, asking for anyone to come forward with their own stories. 2nd Year Chemistry student Robert Norris sent in this rather informal statement of his experiences after returning to his home in Nottingham for the summer:
My dad and I stepped through the front door after a long drive to greet my siblings who were of course happy to see me. Hugs and kisses, ‘good to see you, yeah I had a good time. Of course, I’m going out tonight, yes until 3am, yes this is who I am now’, etc., you know the drill. Anyway, I later went to the kitchen to grab a snack before heading out and felt a brush against my leg – it was Mrs Norris, the cat (yeah, I know, my family are Potterheads, I hate it too). I smiled, knowing that my childhood friend was happy to see me, so I went to pet her, but she moved off. I thought, maybe she wanted to show me something, like a collection of mice corpses that she thought I’d approve of. But no, she just wanted to be fed. Typical.
Wessex Scene also got into contact with Mindy May, a cat whisperer, who revealed the very interesting fact that some cats are just dicks. ‘But don’t let that put you off them’, she told me over the phone, giving some advice:
They’re like humans – give them time, love but most importantly food, and then they’ll love you. Some are just socially awkward or scared. Others are nervous, wondering if cleaning themselves for 3 hours was enough to make themselves presentable for you, or if they should have gone for the full 4 hours. So be considerate.
If you feel rejected by the family cat and are looking for help, Wessex Scene urges you to follow May’s advice, get a dog or simply make your cat sit with you until it tolerates you.