Ove didn’t dislike this cat in particular. It’s just that he didn’t much like cats in general.
He’d always perceived them as untrustworthy. Especially when, as in the case of Ernest, they were as big as mopeds.
It was actually quite difficult to determine whether he was just an unusually large cat or an outstandingly small lion.
And you should never befriend something if there’s a possibility it may take a fancy to eating you in your sleep.
But Sonja loved Ernest so unconditionally that Ove managed to keep this kind of perfectly sensible observation to himself.
He knew better than to speak ill of what she loved;
after all he understood very keenly how it was to receive her love when no one else could understand why he was worthy of it.
So he and Ernest learned to get along reasonably well when they visited the cottage in the forest,
apart from the fact that Ernest bit Ove once when he sat on his tail on one of the kitchen chairs.
Or at least they learned to keep their distance. Just like Ove and Sonja’s father.
Even if Ove’s view was that this Cat Annoyance was not entitled to sit on one chair and spread his tail over another, he let it go.
For Sonja’s sake, Ove learned to fish. In the two autumns that followed their first visit,
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