In Granddad’s shed, it’s just Dave and me. Everyone in the house is either dancing or pretending to not enjoy dancing, so this is the best place to be.
I don’t feel like vlogging, but I do.
“Hello. Millie here, and I’m feeling a bit rubbish.”
(At this point Dave jumps on my lap. I think she feels bad about biting me after I’d made her look good.)
“‘Hashtag Help Me Cope When People Say Bad Things About Me Which Are Clearly NOT TRUE.’
“So Dave and I are just sitting here, and I’ve just been wondering about all this and what you might think about what I’m doing on here. The thing is, I can’t bear the thought of anyone hating me. I make out that I don’t care, but I do. And it’s the hardest thing, because I really like people to like me. God, that sounds PATHETIC. I’m aware of that, but I do.”
(I look at Dave. It’s random, but I have an idea.)
“This is Dave, my cat. She’s a girl, but she’s called Dave. You might have seen her in some of my other vlogs. Anyway, Dave doesn’t really care about anyone and what anyone thinks. She does what she likes. And yes—she’s a cat, but I think there’s a lot to be learned from her attitude. I know people who HATE Dave and think she’s a walking fur menace, er … a bag of fleas, a pit bull in a cat body—people say all sorts of things about her, and she just carries on doing her thing.
“And that’s kind of what I want to say. I get people asking me about what to do when people say horrible or untrue things on the Internet. And something has happened to me this week—I know someone was having a go at me and basically making me out to be a Queen of Evil when actually THEY were the person who was … just being nasty and, oh … hugely a twonk. And some people believe that I’m like that because they want to believe it. There’s nothing I can do about that. I just have to know that the people who really know me know what I’m really like, and they are the ones who matter.
“The thing is, it still hurts. It REALLY DOES, but I look at Dave and I think about that time that my mum’s next-door neighbor called her the worst cat on earth and accused her of getting her pedigree cat pregnant till she found out Dave was actually a girl and not a lesbian, either. Dave just took the abuse and carried on using their cat flap to steal food. We’ve all just got to keep on being ourselves and ignoring the haters, and, as I always say, please tell someone. I know. I KNOW! Boring advice. Dullsville central, but seriously, it will be okay if you just talk to people you love and trust and um … yep. That’s it from me. Be more like Dave.”
(And at that point Dave attacks the phone because she feels like it. So I add—)
“But don’t attack phones or sit on freshly washed trousers and shed your hair. Also if you wake me up at five o’clock in the morning by punching my face because you want food, you won’t be popular.
“Thanks again. Millie out. Hashtag Help me to help you, even though today I think I need help more than anyone.”
This says everything I want it to, even though it suggests humans should be more like scabby, slightly insane cats.
I’m uploading it, though. At least it’s me doing something.
I give Dave a special hug. She may be full of fleas, but she really is an icon for modern women. And cats. And probably even dogs if they would just listen.