Daughter: Cat’s not right – looks like some grown man who should be paying a mortgage..

Me: He’s a cat

Daughter: Nah, he’s a psychopath..with a house and a mortgage..

Me: What?

Daughter: One morning you’ll wake up and he’ll be on two legs, standing over your bed with a knife, mumbling, no, meowing shit about how times are hard and how he can’t pay the mortgage and you’re to blame..

Me: Please stop.