My Girlfriend’s Cat

The previous reviewer is clearly off her rocker. Four stars for Polly Cat?
Despite the pervasive atmosphere of sneeze-​inducing dander and her penchant for digging through purses to find cash and tampons, Polly Cat deserves five stars!

I should update this review in more ways than one. First of all, Polly Cat is no longer «My Girlfriend’s Cat,» but instead «My Wife’s Cat.» Indeed, my wife keeps threatening to draw up adoption papers and make me sign them so that I’ll finally admit that Polly is MY cat. So the cat and I have come to some sort of détente. I give Polly food twice a day and she no longer jumps on my head at 4am. Granted, she’ll still try to wake me at godawful hours, but those are getting fewer and farther between.
In fact, it was these past few weeks, both before and after her surgery that I realized I worried about that fat, stubborn cat. When I went out of my way to make sure her sad little cone was on her head to keep her from licking her stitches, I figured I’ve grown attached to that furry football. And when I saw her unexpectedly go after my neighbor’s dog like some cat out of hell, well, then I gained a new found respect for her.
Polly, you’ve earned that extra star. Stick around for a while and keep making my wife happy. I’ll always have a lap for you to park yourself in.
Her food still smells like fish-​flavored ass though.