I, however, have the absolute worst luck with cats. For some reason, I never have been able to establish any kind of a connection with cats. It seems like most of them dislike me. Very strongly, actually.
Recently, I decided to try and change that. I thought, 'now that I'm a full-fledged practicing witch, why not get myself a cat that I can build a relationship with and add as a companion to my magic?'
So I started looking around for a cat that seemed like a good fit for my household. One day, I got a call from my sister. Her neighbors had moved away and dumped their furry little sweetheart (who was an all-time indoor cat) outside to fend for himself. She said this was the perfect cat for me. He was already full-grown and accustomed to life indoors, and he got along well with other animals. I scheduled a meet-and-greet for him to spend some time with me and my dog, and everything went exceptionally well. Based on his wonderfully chill attitude and his sweet, loving personality, I brought him home that day. And that is when the portal to the basement of hell materialized right in my apartment.
The first day was fine. He explored his surroundings, had a nice hearty meal of expensive cat food, and made friends with my dog. He made a point to hiss at me after he finished his meal, which I thought was a real dick move, but I figured he just needed time to adjust. I named him Crowley and bought him a collar, which he wouldn't let me put on him.
Each day got progressively worse from there. He seemed to be adjusting well, learning his way around, picking favorite napping spots, and playing with his toys. However, he was having frequent episodes of pure hatred and rage. He was bipolar to the strongest degree, and would snap with no warning at all and for seemingly no reason. He would hiss, spit, swat, and even bite. I didn't even have to be anywhere near him to provoke his crazy. If he was feeling angry and I wasn't within swatting distance, the little asshole would come find me.
I continued to have patience with him, and continued to reward him for good behavior and shun his mean ass for the bad behavior. He didn't care. I realized that it was just me he hated when everyone else who came in my home got along with him just fine. He had no qualms with my visitors. Ever.
It wasn't until the night I had to go to the ER that I decided demon kitty had to GO. He attacked me and made my left hand look like hamburger helper. Almost two weeks later, he's in a new home and he's had zero issues with his new human. Zero. And my hand still looks like someone tried to hack it off with a fork.
So, no. I won't be incorporating any cats into my practice any time soon. I'm a dog person and I should have known better than trying to befriend a member of the species that has obviously declared me a mortal enemy. Props to all the witches who do work well with cats!