We have three cats. Two are my mom's. One is mine. Mine lives indoors and whenever she gets scared, which is often, she runs to me for comfort. Then slaps me in the face if I pick her up. She was a stray we brought in about 10 years ago. Shes about 12 or so. Albert is also 12. He was born here, so we've had him a while. Then, little Alvin is 3. He was born here, also, and immediately started picking on Albert for his rightful place as king. He tried picking on Emma, my cat, and she smacked him so hard he runs from her.
My dad won't let me get anymore pets. Especially not kittens. He hates kittens. And cats. and my happiness.
Zingoleb- You crack me up, seriously. Although, for the record, when I was about 10, we used to have a creek running next to our house. My guinea pig and I were chilling outside and he made a mad break for the creek. I think he was trying to kill himself.
My friends do the same thing. Maybe, when exposed to me, animals feel too much joy and just can't handle it...