Fuzzyard Harness for tiny dog or large cat.

Alright, buckle up buttercup, because we're about to delve into the thrilling saga of my cat and the "Fashion Accessory of Doom," also known as a harness. Picture this: I, a beacon of feline-friendly intentions, procured a harness. A stylish harness, mind you. I envisioned leisurely strolls, perhaps a jaunty little hat, maybe even a tiny monocle. My cat, however, envisioned the apocalypse. The moment that contraption dared to approach her regal fur, she transformed. Not into a graceful, leash-trained companion, oh no. She morphed into a furry, four-legged tornado of pure, unadulterated nope. I'm fairly certain she channeled the spirit of a badger possessed by a tiny, enraged demon. I attempted the "gentle approach," the "bribe with treats" strategy, and even the "desperate, pleading whispers." All were met with the same response: a look that could curdle milk and a symphony of hisses that could shatter glass. I'm pretty sure she was trying to communicate in a language only understood by squirrels and vengeful dust bunnies. Let's just say, the harness now bears the distinct mark of "Human Defeated." It's currently residing in a box, probably plotting its revenge on humanity. As for me? I'm sporting a few new abstract scratch designs, courtesy of my "beloved" pet. My hands look like they lost a fight with a rose bush that had a grudge. And the best part? She's now giving me the cold shoulder. I'm expecting a full-blown feline boycott for the next month or two.