Not a happy kitty...

The big, dark, empty space behind the cat is where her favourite couch used to be. 
But after about thirty years of mostly reliable service and three mostly careful owners, it had really really reached its end of life. 
There is a new couch due to be delivered next Monday, when a not-quite-so-old-sofa will take the place of Wally's 30 year old Habitat couch. 
Yesterday was the day when I had time to go and dispose of the 30 year old Habitat couch and the sofa-that-never-quite-managed-to-be-white-for-more-than-two-days-at-a-time. 
I made two big mistakes.
a- I didn't check the pricing policy that the gougers at Ballyogan recycling park have put in place for items placed on the roofs of cars (spoiler alert: the fuckers charge double i.e. an eye-watering €60 not to dump old sofas in a forest. I had a comical standoff with them that may go viral if they ever decide to post the CCTV footage on YouTube for a laugh). 
b- I didn't consult with the cat. 

To say that she wasn't best pleased when she entered the room for the first time post couch removal would be a bit of an understatement. 
She has been pretty much pissed off ever since her favourite piece of furniture was taken away from her without a chance to say goodbye. 

She just sits there and sulks. 

The corner of the couch was the place where she always exercised her claws first thing in the morning and did a good stretch. 

This morning she exercised her claws on my left calf as I was standing there, also mourning the disappearance of the old couch. 

I was in the right spot at the wrong time...