She ended up moving in with my aunt when she couldn't look after herself any more. My aunt had a small black cat. At first my grandma hated it. She was terrified of it, would shoo it away, kick him outside and stuff. But after a few months of living there, out of nowhere like a switch had been flipped, she suddenly loved that cat. She'd spend hours watching TV with him on her lap, would go looking for him to give him treats, would get concerned if he was outside too long, that cat became one of her favourite things.

I mean maybe she just had a change of heart after a lifetime of ingrained hatred and fear, but her attitude towards pretty much everything else never really changed.