Last year Mother adopted a cat on a whim.

In October a little grey kitten appeared at our home. In the beginning, the creature was too tiny to get onto any surface higher than 30 centimetres. Just a month with us, it learned to climb anywhere in the house just like Mr Spider Man. It could even nap comfortably on top of the fridge or the air-conditioner.

It was the beginning of all the nightmares Pussy the Devil has created. If the feline was around and you just turned away from it, it would leap over like a lightning bolt and leave some scratches on your ankle. It seemed that Pussy was practising its hunting skills. Mother tried to beat it after Pussy’s attack, but it made no big difference to its mischief. Mother’s attempt to punish Pussy only helped the animal acquire a new skill—to escape by hiding under the sofa.

Warfare between Pussy and us has started with vehemence since its first attacks. 3 months of conflicts only saw us not only harvesting more and more of its scratches and but also Pussy’s prowess in maddening us becoming better and better. Mother got so desperate that she even wanted to dispose of it. On second thoughts, however, she refrained from that because it would be too cruel.

After countless failures, I racked my brains for a solution. I tried all kinds of ways but to no avail. One day after washing my hands in the toilet, I came out only to be stared at by Pussy. My hands still wet, I sprinkled drops of water over Pussy. It got so scared that it ran for its life. It suddenly dawned on me that cats fear water. After my discovery, I tried the trick a couple of times. It worked perfectly.

Now whenever I come out of the toilet with a wicked smile on my face, hands shaking a bit, Pussy will dart away as if a real monster were chasing it. Thank Goodness, no more feline scratches on me, although Pussy still has other dirty tricks up its sleeve.