Submitted by beardify t3_zaiyy6 in nosleep

As a child, I always hated visiting my Grandma Elena.

The woman herself was never anything but kind to me–but her cat was something else.

His name was Miffy, and I was terrified of him.

He was an enormous male calico–as large as I was back then–and I’m sure my fear made him seem even bigger. Sometimes I’d wake up in the middle of the night with his heavy, purring weight on top of me, the tips of his claws raking my chest as he kneaded the blankets.

I could, you know, his sneering amber eyes seemed to say.

I could tear your throat open with these claws or pluck out your eyes with these teeth–and there’s nothing you could do about it.

Miffy would hunt me through Grandma Elena’s house like a lion stalking a gazelle, making me jump with fear or drop what I was holding when he’d silently weave between my legs.

As he watched me curse and pick up the pieces, I would’ve sworn his purrs sounded like laughter. He loved to hide my toys atop the highest wardrobe and watch me struggle to reach them, or run off with my nicest shirt between his teeth, forcing me to give chase until he got bored and dropped it into the mud.

Of course, I was the one who got punished for such things–never Miffy.

In fact, Grandma Elena’s whole life seemed to revolve around her cat.

His huge, hideous featherbed sat in the center of the living room like a throne, and Grandma Elena’s furniture and curtains were purple because–according to her–purple was Miffy’s favorite color. We watched nature documentaries and old war movies because those were Miffy’s favorite shows, and we ate our meals whenever Miffy was hungry.

If Miffy narrowed his eyes at Grandma after his porcelain plate was licked clean, she’d always give him more. The raw amount of meat and seafood the big cat could devour in one sitting was nothing short of amazing.

It was during feeding time that I first began to understand that there was more to Grandma Elena’s relationship with Miffy than met the eye; I realized, for the first time, that she was as afraid of the big cat as I was–

And I could see why.

I still remember the first and only time I dared to strike a blow at Miffy. It was late afternoon toward the end of summer; I was on my way back from the community pool. The day had turned overcast and chilly, and I just wanted to get inside and wrap up in Grandma Elena’s fuzziest towel. I was fumbling for the keys when Miffy pounced out of nowhere, ripping my swimsuit to shreds. I blushed and tried to cover myself, sure that at any moment one of the neighbors–or, God forbid, my crush Kimberly–might pass by, only to see me naked and fighting with a housecat.

For Miffy, keeping me outside was part of the fun.

He scratched and bit at my most vulnerable parts, driving me away from the door and into the field behind Grandma Elena’s house.

Broken reeds cut my tender bare feet and the chill wind made me shiver, but I didn't dare stop–

Not with Miffy's razor-sharp claws right behind me.

I'd never before realized just how helpless and defenseless humans really were compared to other animals. The big cat was just too quick. If I tried to circle back to the house, he'd bound into my path with a low, rumbling growl.

Enraged, I grabbed a stick and swung at the big feline.

He slipped beneath my blow and sank his teeth into my wrist until I shrieked and dropped my makeshift weapon. I’d never seen so much blood before; the wound was so deep it made me dizzy, and I could hear my pulse in my ears.

Had Miffy’s teeth really done this? I wondered as I ran.

The cold, pain, and embarrassment made me want to cry: I was being bullied by a housecat.

I’m sure Miffy would've kept after me until I collapsed from exhaustion, but it began to rain–and Miffy hated being wet.

Grandma Elena came running out with a towel and gauze; she took me to the Emergency Room right away. The doctor said I’d need stitches, and he refused to believe that my bite was from a cat.

“A tiger, maybe!” he laughed–but I didn’t think it was funny.

My parents didn’t bring me back to Grandma Elena’s after that. I couldn’t help but feel that it was because I wasn’t safe there, not anymore. Not after daring to raise a hand against Miffy.

I didn’t see my Grandma Elena again until her funeral a few weeks ago.

After the ceremony, a bald bespectacled lawyer cornered me in the cemetery parking lot.

He informed me that my grandmother had named me her sole heir, and while I wouldn’t be inheriting much more than a dilapidated house and a few hundred dollars, I still needed to stay in town for a few days to complete the paperwork. He pressed a spare key to my grandmother’s house into my palm with a sympathetic smile and told me that I was welcome to use the house while everything got sorted out.

The only problem was, I wasn’t sure I wanted to.

Doubts and questions buzzed through my head as I drove past dead fields and rusted factories, but one in particular stood out: was Miffy still alive?

It was impossible. Over fifteen years had passed since the big calico had taken a chunk out of my wrist, and he’d been old then. The gloom of twilight deepened as I entered neighborhoods I hadn’t seen or thought of since childhood, familiar and yet alien all at once.

I suppose it was foolish of me to think that some things never change.

Paint chipped from the sides of Grandma Elena’s once clean and welcoming home; dead leaves overflowed from the gutters and onto the roof like a rotting fungus. In the darkness of the bay window, purple curtains rustled slightly.

I felt a twinge of guilt in my gut: I should have visited. I could have helped with this…

But then again, I thought bitterly as I parked and walked up the overgrown driveway, what about my parents? Shouldn’t all this have been their responsibility? Come to think of it, they’d been acting strange throughout the entire funeral. Instead of grieving, it was like my parents had been holding their breath, waiting for some terrible fate to fall upon them…

I twisted the key in the lock and shouldered open the sagging door.

The power had been shut off; the house was dark.

A foul, musty smell pervaded in the stuffy air.

I advanced through the pitch-black house by the light of my phone, looking for the circuit breaker. Knick-knacks and furniture rose out of the darkness like freakish deep-sea creatures, demented shapes from childhood memories that I’d done my best to forget…

A rocking chair half-covered by a threadbare purple blanket.

Dusty shelves lined with porcelain statues and framed family photos that, for some reason, had all been flipped upside-down.

A stack of moldering porcelain dishes…and cat toys scattered across the floor.

I had an awful feeling that I wasn’t alone in Grandma Elena’s house.

I stopped and listened; I could barely make out the sound of four-legged footsteps, but where was–

A pair of enormous golden eyes opened a few feet above my head.

I screamed, jumped back, and shined my light upwards.

Miffy had grown bigger and fatter than ever…and he was crawling on the ceiling.

His hideously-long, arm-thick tail swung from side to side like a pendulum counting down to some horrible fate.

I let out a low moan as the big cat rotated his head upside-down so that we were looking into each other’s eyes–

Miffy bared his teeth in a grin and dropped from the ceiling.

I backed away in horror; the thing advancing on me in the shaky light of my phone was the size of a large dog. I tried to tell myself that cats didn’t understand concepts like revenge…but then again, they weren’t supposed to be able to climb upside-down or twist their heads completely around, either.

As I fled to the kitchen, that cloying smell became nearly unbearable.

What have you been eating all this time, Miffy?

I nearly tripped over the half-eaten remains of the poodle on the floor. Based on the shattered glass and broken plates, Miffy had somehow broken the kitchen window and dragged it inside.

The enormous cat in front of me let out a low, dangerous growl. I shielded my face with my arms as he pounced up on the table, grabbed a bowl in his mouth, and slid it toward me across the gore-streaked tile floor.

He then sprang onto the counter, swatted a drawer open, and pawed at a can opener.

“You…you want me to feed you?” I couldn’t believe this was happening. Miffy growled again, his eyes narrowing. With trembling fingers, I began to point to the cans in Grandma Elena’s pantry. Miffy didn’t stop growling until my finger landed on a family-sized tin of tuna.

I ratcheted it open, dumped it into a bowl, and bolted for my car while Miffy ate.

“Hello, animal control?” I asked, after dialing the first appropriate number I found. “I’d like to report a large, aggressive feline at–” as soon as I gave the cheerful woman on the other end of the line the address, her tone changed.

“I’m sorry, but we don’t service that area.”

“You don’t…?” I couldn’t believe it. They were less than half a mile away.

“Sorry, sir. I don’t make the rules.”

I tried the next company. The gruff voice that picked up sounded a lot more promising, until I told him the road I was calling from.

“Real funny, aren’t ya, asshole?” Click.

The last extermination and critter control business in town put me on hold after I gave them Grandma Elena’s address, and never took me off of it. I had just hung up when I heard claws scratching against the roof of my car.

Miffy was trying to get in.

The cat was clearly a menace–if he was even a cat at all. He’d killed at least one pet…and maybe larger things as well.

If I reversed quickly, then accelerated hard and crushed him beneath my tires…well, I’d be doing the world a favor, wouldn’t I? There didn’t seem to be any other way to get rid of him.

Heart thundering in my chest, I put my plan into action.

I never imagined I’d feel pity for the beast that had tormented me throughout my childhood, but as I heard the two loud bumps and smelt the burning exhaust, a sick knot formed in my stomach. At least I’ll give him a decent burial, I thought–

But when I got out of the car, Miffy was gone.

I stood blinking in the damp, chilly darkness of my grandmother’s driveway.

It was impossible. I’d run over the old bastard–twice!

That disquieting knot in my gut grew even tighter as I climbed nervously back into my car. Even though my apartment was a five-hour drive away, there was no way I’d be staying in Grandma Elena’s house, not with the disgusting sight in the kitchen and that monstrous cat on the loose.

Back on the highway, I finally felt my breathing return to normal.

Maybe I never needed to set foot in that awful house again. I’d hire a cleaning service to take care of the…mess…in the kitchen, and get a real estate agent to sell the place…

The sheer relief of leaving it all behind had me whistling as I bounced up the steps to my apartment. I flipped on the lights, kicked off my shoes, and slid down the hall to the bathroom, where–

Wait. Hadn’t I left the shower curtain open when I left?

Enormous claws shredded through the plastic as Miffy pounced.

Not even trying to rationalize the insane situation, I fled to my bedroom, locking the door behind me and backing against the opposite wall.

But Miffy slipped through the one-inch crack at the bottom of the door like some horrible, boneless creature and bounded over to where I cowered.

His enormous weight on my shoulders was almost enough to knock me to the floor.

I felt something press against my eyeball, but it took me a moment to realize what it was:

An impossibly long claw that barely grazed my pupil.

I could, you know. Miffy seemed to say, just as he had when I was child. If I wanted to, I could…

My phone rang. The big cat leapt from my head, allowing me to answer.

It was my mother–and she was crying.

“It’s there with you, isn’t it?” she sobbed. I didn’t reply; I didn’t have to. My silence said more than words ever could. “Oh God! I’m so, so sorry, honey.”

“What…what is this thing?” Miffy blinked lazily. Go ahead, he seemed to say. Talk all you want, it won’t change a thing. “What was Grandma Elena taking care of all these years, mom?”

“It’s been in the family for, generations, who knows how long. By all rights it should have come to me, but after what it did to daddy I just can’t…I’d have a breakdown…I wouldn’t be able to do what it wanted and it would kill me, don’t you see? It HAD to be you!”

“...Daddy…you mean my Grandpa Ron? I thought he was killed in a car accident!”

“Honey, your grandpa…he tried to kill it. Read all these weird old books and had these special bullets made, silver ones, with little symbols carved on them…but it didn’t work. And when it came back…its revenge was *terrible…*what it did to him in the woodshed…” my mother broke down into tears. “Just do what it wants, okay, honey? Don’t make it angry, and you might have a chance to live a semi-normal life…”

“But how did this happen? Why did it come to us?” I shouted–

But my mother was inconsolable. I couldn’t make out what she was trying to say through her heaving, hyperventilating breaths, and eventually the line went dead.

When I called back, there was no answer.

I looked at the monstrous feline on my bed and took a deep breath.

Okay, so I had to take care of my family’s evil, immortal cat. So what? Didn’t my mother just say that all of my ancestors had done the same thing, and got along just fine?

I suddenly thought of my grandfather. Grandpa Ron, who I’d never met. Grandpa Ron, who hadn’t died in a car accident. Grandpa Ron, who Miffy had apparently tortured to death in the woodshed. I shuddered, got to my feet…and prepared to begin my new life as Caretaker.

I soon learned what Grandma Elena had seemingly long understood: catering to Miffy’s every want and desire was a full-time job.

Little by little, the color scheme of my apartment changed to shades of purple. Black-and-white war movies or nature documentaries blared from the television twenty-four hours a day. I returned to my grandmother's house to retrieve Miffy’s porcelain bowls and featherbed, and stocked up on the reeking, fishy foods that the big cat craved.

Miffy couldn’t speak, but he always found a way to express what he wanted–

With a glare, a purr, a growl, or a razor-sharp claw.

When I failed and had to be…corrected…I began to blame myself. If Miffy’s saucer of milk was too hot or if my voice was too loud, it was my fault for failing to anticipate his desires. The worst part wasn’t the long, bleeding scratches I saw in the mirror; it was believing that I deserved them.

I think I could have endured the pain and constant fear, but I began to overheard hushed discussions amongst my neighbors: conversations about feeling a strange ‘presence’ in their homes at night, about leftovers mysteriously vanishing…and about huge golden eyes that appeared in the darkness.

That‘s when I realized that Miffy’s real toys weren’t stuffed animals or balls of yarn…they were the people around him.

“Lost Pet” signs began to go up around the block; I thought of the gory mess of poodle that I’d scrubbed from Grandma Elena’s kitchen floor and got a sinking feeling in my stomach. But it wasn’t until a young boy vanished from the apartment complex playground that I began to search for an escape from my job as Miffy’s caretaker.

After all, until I did, all the pain of the people and animals around me would be my responsibility. I was the cause of Miffy’s awful shadow falling over their lives.

When I thought Miffy wasn’t watching, I’d sneak onto forums to read about methods…methods like rope, a razor, exhaust fumes, or pills.

On the day that I’d made up my mind to go through with it, I woke to find three innocuous souvenirs on my pillow.

My mother’s battered old gardening hat.

My father’s favorite tie.

A swimsuit top that belonged to Kimberly, my crush–

And at that moment, I understood.

If I abandoned my duties as caretaker, Miffy would move on to one of them. If no one was left in my family, he’d move on to the family of the girl I loved, bringing suffering to untold generations of her family. There was no easy way out of this.

In the years since then, I’ve gotten used to having Miffy in the house.

I’ve gotten used to making midnight grocery runs to avoid a punishment, used to sympathizing with the golden-eyed night terrors of my nearest neighbors.

Used to the way people and pets nearby tend to…disappear.

I thought I’d seen it all, until Miffy recently did something he’d never done before: he brought home another cat. A female cat. I didn’t understand why at first, but now her belly is getting bigger and I think…I think she’s going to have kittens.

Anybody want a free cat?

X

2,024

Comments

You must log in or register to comment.

lauraD1309 t1_iym9etr wrote

What the actual fuck! A demon house cat?? You better try and find those old books your grandpa had. Maybe he missed something. I wish you luck.

194

gregklumb t1_iyn5bfb wrote

Just throwing it out there, but Miffy sounds like it could be short for Mephistopheles.

151

mysticaltater t1_iynjm33 wrote

My thought too. Anything related to purple or War shows?

17

gregklumb t1_iyowbs2 wrote

No luck on any research with purple, but I get why a demon would enjoy war shows.

21

acarp52080 t1_iype35q wrote

For more ideas on punishments perhaps, as disturbing as that sounds.

14

Justanothersaul t1_iyv8i0p wrote

In Orthodox Christian Church, Purple/Black colored decorative fabrics are used during Lent (color of mourning and repentance). And on Google it says that purple is associated with a variety of meanings, including wisdom, creativity, royalty, power, ambition, and luxury. It can also represent magic, extravagance, peace, pride, independence, and wealth. Some of these match the one involved.

7

MisterDutch93 t1_iz7lv8s wrote

Purple was an exceptionally hard pigment to make throughout history. The Romans made purple pigment from a specific type of sea slug that was needed in large quantities. It became synonymous with wealth because of the labor intensive and expensive extraction methods. Emperors later wore it to show their godly status. I guess Miffy pictures itself as immortal royalty in the same way, though the Cheshire Cat is also purple and has big yellow eyes and otherworldly abilities just like Miffy, so maybe there’s a connection?

9

Un1c0rnTears t1_j0t4dav wrote

Late to the speculation, but also The Color Purple represents illusion, deception, and the manipulation of Light.

The colors along the "Line of Purples” are not true colors, but illusions created by our 2-D light spectrum wrapping around itself in 3-D space, conjoining polar-opposite ends of Violet (Blue) & Red.

3

AuroraWolfMelody t1_iym9q8r wrote

Have you tried salt? Salt and iron... not making it obvious of course but Miffy could've smashed open your car trying to get to you, could've tried apparating into the back seat, could've but chose the "easier" option of waiting for you at your home. Why? You could try slipping some holy water into its dish, too. As for momma cat, while I hate to suggest it, is she a normal cat? It may be your responsibility to stop those kittens from being born :/ imagine a litter of Miffys unleashed on the world. It only takes a couple generations of ferals to destroy an ecosystem, imagine what hellcats might do to humanity.

126

beardify OP t1_iyma2u9 wrote

Hmmm, as for the reason why...I honestly think he was just messing with me: swatting me around like a ball of twine...

56

Jazzlike-Willow3913 t1_iymss8r wrote

This is completely unrelated to the story, but my inner cat-nerd wants to ramble about this for a while. In cats, fur colour is carried on the X chromosome. For the signature tri-coloured coat of a calico, there would need to be two X chromosomes with different dominant fur colours, which would cause co-dominance and, subsequently, a calico coat. Since males only have one X chromosome, it's most likely impossible for an XY male cat to be calico.

Male calicos are very rare (1 in 3000 calico cats born are male) and probably have an extra X chromosome - so Miffy would likely be XXY rather than XY. This chromosomal disorder also occurs in humans and is referred to as Klinefelter syndrome. Due to this disorder, male calicos are most often sterile, however 1 in 1000 male calicos are not sterile. The fact that Miffy managed to impregnate the female cat means that he is a rarity. (Well, there's also the fact that he's some kind of sadistic immortal demon-cat, which means he's even more rare.)

Y'know what, I'd take him if it weren't for my other two cats who I'd be worried about being... well... eaten by Miffy.

Probably should get the female out of there. Take her to the vet, get her spayed, and you won't have to worry about kittens anymore, if she hasn't given birth to then yet. (Hell, get Miffy neutered while you're at it. Taking him to the vet might be too dangerous, just take scissors and snip 'em off - he survived bullets and getting run over by a car, he'll be fine. If you want to be safe, boil his sack in holy water, cremate it, and bury it at a church.) Take the female to a shelter or something so Miffy doesn't do anything. Good luck, dude.

EDIT: The blanket kneading behaviour that was mentioned raises more questions. Kneading in adult cats often comes from from suckling their mother as a kitten. Most cats outgrow this behaviour, and blanket kneading in adulthood can be linked to a cat being separated from their mother too early, which makes me wonder about what Miffy was like as a kitten (if he's even a cat and not some kind of weird demon-thing in the form of a cat). Kneading can also be a cat's way of scent marking - cats have scent glands on their paws, and by kneading a blanket or another soft surface, a cat can mark it as their territory. Kneading is also a self-soothing/comforting action for many cats, and it's considered a sign of trust if a cat kneads on your blanket, and it's often accompanied by purring - which is associated with comfort and pleasure, and the frequency of cat purring has been proven to have both mental and physical health benefits. My kitty, Nico, kneads on my blanket a lot, and he is the sweetest cat I've ever met, so the fact that Miffy does it makes me really wonder about him. It's a gesture of comfort and trust, which doesn't really fit with his violent tendencies. After thinking about this for a while, I'm quite curious and I really want to take him - but, again, I'm worried about my own cats. Miffy definitely wasn't socialised properly, and I prefer my cats uneaten and alive.

101

swordandmagichelmet t1_iynwc9f wrote

Something tells me Miffy wouldn't tolerate being snipped or having his kits aborted very well. Cool cat facts, though.

34

Jazzlike-Willow3913 t1_iyoqicy wrote

Yeah, I'd be worried about how he'd react... well, he can't necessarily un-snip his balls, so it would be a victory to manage to do it. About the kittens, it might be worthwhile to separate them from Miffy and socialise them better so they don't become mini-Miffys - and, even better, train an army of Miffy's kittens to overthrow him and put an end to this!

19

beardify OP t1_iymtw2i wrote

Thank you! I too hope he's rarity O_____O

18

jkosarin t1_iyplr8k wrote

I thought the same thing when I read Miffy was a male calico:)

9

Fireskys_Nightfall t1_izcjz51 wrote

Went to the comments to see if anyone else reacted to the Calico being a male and tada! Well done :)

1

wuzzittoya t1_iympnlm wrote

Sounds more like you need an exorcist vs pet control.

I had a cat who made sure you knew what he wanted and then he bit as punishment for disobedience. I considered them love bites mostly - they didn’t break the skin. He knew how hard to bite and only leave bruises.

If I talked in the phone and ignored him instead of becoming a trapped cat masseuse, he would nip my ankle. If I ignored him, he just chewed on it until I did what I was supposed to.

Once I was leaving over the back of my husband’s easy chair giving him a hug and kiss, and got a sharp nip on my butt for possibly not holding Mr T first in my life.

Mr Twisty (Oliver J Twisty-Kat) was a normal (mortal) cat. Miffy is obviously a demon incarnate.

80

beardify OP t1_iymts1x wrote

Even normal cats are more intelligent than we realize! Many cultures have legends about how wise, supernatural, and even dangerous older cats can become, as in this case: https://yokai.com/bakeneko/

58

wuzzittoya t1_iypysfy wrote

All of my pets learn to speak to me over time. FouFou actually explained that she appreciated the effort putting together a $60 cat tree for her, but she really preferred the 20-year-old chair she was shredding. This was accomplished with meowing and behavior, kind of like you would do in a foreign country when you don’t know the language. I think they guess I am trying to understand, so they try harder to be understood.

Don’t even get me started on chickens, or a horse that loves practical jokes! 😂❤️

17

mastani11 t1_iza94pj wrote

My cat used to wait at the front door all day so we can go roaming the apartment halls together. I had to tell him many times we cannot go out during the day when people are walking around but we can go around 11 pm. he learned i guess, now he just waits there from 10-11 so I can take him. god i love him so much

7

MsPaganPoetry t1_iymf9hv wrote

Male calico cat? That’s your first sign that something is off because all calico cats are female

52

beardify OP t1_iymff27 wrote

Very nearly almost all. But I'm glad someone noticed ;)

56

wuzzittoya t1_iymq4dn wrote

No. There are male calicos. They are just very rare (and usually sterile). It just means there is even less reason to assume Miffy is an actual cat.

42

Dogbean20 t1_iynz63c wrote

Usually sterile not always but they definitely gave that thing steroids

6

wuzzittoya t1_iypyzzv wrote

Seems so. 😂. I used usually because ones capable of reproduction are so rare. I have wished for a male calico for a long time. 🤔

I think I am going to change my mind. 🤦‍♀️🤣

2

MurseWoods t1_iym076l wrote

Has anyone tried, or have you thought about making a giant cage to trap Miffy in?

I mean, if there are cages people keep bears, tigers or lions in, you could have something custom made. Then line it with all purple, put an even better featherbed in, and a big ol’ bowl of tuna. Then…SLAM!!!

Lock that baby up, drag it off to a spare bedroom, and feed it as needed. If you can’t kill it, you could at the very least contain it.

It could be your only hope!

40

beardify OP t1_iym0nki wrote

It's a good idea, but it seems to be able to slip through any crack and cover such impossible distances...what if we're wrong? I'd hate to make it angry again...

49

MurseWoods t1_iym2bxj wrote

I never said anything about any holes in the cage. And there no proof it can go thru solid objects, right? So I’d imagine as long as there was no oxygen supply, it might put it into a permanent hibernating state.

That is until some poor soul, many years after you’re gone, opens Pandora’s Miffy’s Box.

33

beardify OP t1_iym2ian wrote

Interesting! You might be right!

22

MurseWoods t1_iym2r7n wrote

That said… if I were in your shoes, I’d probably be terrified, also, to try anything new. God forbid the wrath of a demonic, vengeful & immortal house-tiger.

15

AvakinLazerith t1_iyor1vy wrote

How are they right when miffy transported into your apartment? The cat LITERALLY was in your apartment before you were 😃

5

wuzzittoya t1_iyqgc8z wrote

You might want to mention to Miffy that if he doesn’t lay off a little, you will never breed, and he will lose his built-in caters. 🤔

4

acarp52080 t1_iypf0hs wrote

This may be a dumb idea but hear me out, in older horror movies (think Godzilla like) the only way everyone lived is due to another monster coming to fight Godzilla. You are on reddit/nosleep perhaps find a penpal with a hellhound and have ya a little "playdate"??

9

beardify OP t1_iyq52ez wrote

That's a creative solution... I'll have to see if I can find someone like that!

4

QueenMangosteen t1_iym5g2p wrote

I don't think Miffy will fall for that. But on the off chance you do manage to trap it. Don't leave it in the bedroom, throw it into volcano. Or the bottom of the Mariana trench.

19

fictionalistic t1_iyoas8k wrote

Might be a job for Jackson Galaxy - after all, his show was My Cat From Hell..

19

Skeen441 t1_iyqgc3r wrote

That show really should have been called "I'm Too Dumb to Own a Cat."

7

earth__wyrm t1_iyo4xwi wrote

I knew something was up with that cat when you said “male calico”. Looks like you got unlucky, most of them aren’t able to breed

18

tired_ape t1_iynzqy0 wrote

Ancient Egyptians believed that cats were vessels often inhabited by the gods. Maybe you're not just dealing with a demon but with a bonafide god/goddess...perhaps if you found it which god/goddess you're dealing with you could find a way to placate/worship them properly and turn it to your favour? It's probably a long shot...but then again you never know.

16

y6x t1_iyn3sw1 wrote

Awww. Cat tax? Regarding the behavioral issues - They make calming / pheromone sprays for cats. Perhaps a vet supply place may sell it in gallon-sized bottles?

13

miniaturesnail t1_iymej12 wrote

Wow please update! Have you tried putting sleeping meds in his food and then putting him in one of those heavy duty cages that another user mentioned?

12

ohhoneyno_ t1_iyn9tfk wrote

I have a theory that the more spite a thing (person or animal) has, the longer it lives and I think Miffy would agree.

11

beardify OP t1_iyn9zxb wrote

Interesting theory! I wonder if the more we fear it, the more powerful it gets?

8

WolverineBeautiful98 t1_iyn0pky wrote

I kind of do want a demon kitten...It'll fit right in with all the other asshole animals I live with.

But in all seriousness, have you considered working with some kind of spiritual worker to trap Miffy in a containment vessel? It might be your best option, since you can't outright kill him.

8

randauum t1_iynjlfz wrote

No, thanks I'll pass

4

Mushroom_MooMoo t1_iynotk0 wrote

Ohhhhhhhhh I love cats if she gives birth I would happily take one of the babies!!

4

Jazzlike-Willow3913 t1_iyrrwl6 wrote

If it weren't for my other pets that I would prefer to stay uneaten, I would take Miffy. I honestly wonder where he came from, and what his life was like, etc. (see my other comment for interesting things I noticed about him). I'm curious as to where his hatred and violence came from - was he always evil? Maybe it was generations of being feared, hated, people trying to kill him.. he just decided to hate back, and use the fear to get what he wants, because he doesn't know how else to. This might be my love for cats speaking here, but maybe he isn't pure evil?

Perhaps a change of caretaking tactics might help - I'd try getting a food dispenser so he can get the perfect amount of food himself, even when you're not home. I wonder how he'd react to having a caretaker who did what he wanted, but wasn't scared of him - like, didn't run away from him, didn't react very much to being bit/scratched, etc. He uses fear to get what he wants - what if he wasn't treated like a feared/hated dictator, but just a very needy housecat or roommate? Like, "okay, okay, your royal miffy-ness. here's your food. now if you could let go of my arm that would be great." "miffy, that's my shirt - y'know what, keep it. i have others." "did you enjoy your daily kill? great. i'm not going near that damn room again, so you can leave all your animal carcasses there. oh, and theres a bunch of mice in the basement, would you mind getting rid of them? thanks." "shit, what the fu-! oh, it's just you crawling on the ceiling again. what the hell are you doing up there? and how do you even do that??" "okay, mr. sassypants, i get it. you're ferocious. good for you. you just gonna keep gnawing my leg, or..." I wonder if he'd become less violent if his caretaker was less afraid of him, but still gave him what he wanted.

4

catatonie t1_iypx5np wrote

I know he is an actual menace but…does he like pats at all

3

randauum t1_iyq4lan wrote

I'm way too selfish for this. I'd have rannnnnn

2

Beardrac t1_iyqc6m8 wrote

What if the kitty is helping you? Like it sounds like your mom kinda left you out to dry. Like I’ve heard cat purrs have healing effects and cat bacteria gives other bravery. That is why they are able to hunt mice so well.

2

chellotte8 t1_iyqglim wrote

I've read cats can die if they eat oysters.

2

Silvrskull t1_iyoqybt wrote

Take it to the animal shelter

1

S4njay t1_iypa9n2 wrote

Nooo this is terrifying

1

Firefly_07 t1_iyqef7i wrote

I thought my cats were bad but yours definitely takes the cake. Good luck finding homes for those future demon babies.

1

Readalie t1_iyu9dm4 wrote

That doctor was a moron. Cat bites are serious business. Demonic or otherwise.

1

aflyonthewallll t1_iyutimi wrote

preeeettttty sure calicos can’t be males so that should have been your first red flag, buddy

1

Baduke t1_izcyset wrote

How dare you assume cat genders!

2

AmountFinal3928 t1_iz567da wrote

Considering grandma died and had a long lasting relationship…sounds like grief and uncertainly. Times fixes it.

1

criticallycrafty t1_izjoiy0 wrote

Miffy sounds like a normal kitty. I bet himbs so cute! 💕

1

TinyKalimba t1_j07eorp wrote

Okay hear me out on this.

Have you tried like treating the cat like a cat? Idk maybe you could make this wholesome. The cat sounds terrifying but maybe you could soften Miffy up with some cuddles.

1

oneeyecheeselord t1_j12ap4i wrote

What happens if you don’t have kids to pass Miffy down to?

1