My damn blasted cat
Okay, that's it. Look. See? This. This is my cat. She's horrible. So bloody cute and cuddly one moment, but then I reach out to stroke her fur and suddenly it's MAN VS CAT, the Showdown! and I'm fighting for my life, here, like it's some sort of horrible deathmatch. And the rest of the time she just sits there, this big orange lump, sleeping. A big sleeping orange lump and I can't even pet her.
But if that was all it was, my cat would just be like another piece of my mother's hand-me-down enforced decorations, those terrible urns and sculptures scattered around the house that have a penchant for falling on people who get too close, dangerous if touched, but easy enough to ignore. But no, oh no, not my cat. Because she sheds. She sheds on bloody everything, and I just can't take it anymore!