If I would have known long ago that Elizabeth had a cat, I would have not gone out with her.  Why I even have stuck by her this long is something I'm still asking myself a year later.

I hate cats.  There!  I've said it.  It's now in the open!  I always have hated cats.  They're sneaky, aloof, and dumb as a bag of rocks: you can't possibly train them because as I know from experience they don't ever listen to you.

Well, my girlfriend has a cat.  A big, burly Ragdoll she has named Bluebell (go figure why; shouldn't be that hard to figure out once you see the feline's eyes: they're robin's egg blue). I swear Bluebell hates me: everytime she sees me she hisses and bares her claws; I am sure that if she had a chance she'd try to claw my eyes out.  I swear that confounded cat has a death wish ... on ME.

I have tried everything to win the stupid cat over: bringing it treats or toys.  Trying to sweet talk her into a cuddle on my lap or to let me pet her.  Nothing doing.  That cat will not have anything to do with me.  Every time she sees me she does her hissing thing and then tries to scratch me before running out of the room.

I have talked to Elizabeth about her cat's attitude towards me, but she sees nothing wrong with it.  Oh, really?? Since when does she think her cat is more important than me??  I have had more than enough of that cat to last me the rest of my days, and it's about time I give Elizabeth an ultimatum: it's either the cat or ME.  One of us has got to go.  And I'm personally betting on the cat because I want to spend the rest of my life with Elizabeth!

So what should I do?? Any suggestions on how to solve this problem would be greatly appreciated!  Thank you!