8 Confessions of a Cat-Lady-In-Training

1. I have owned, currently own or have plans to own some article of clothing or useful trinket with cat-related imagery on it.

Imagery examples: paws, the word “purr,” the actual likeness of a cat.  Also acceptable are things shaped like cats: cat slippers, cat mugs, etc.  They just make life better.

2. If my cat ever were to scratch me (which she never would), I would lie about how I received said abrasion to protect her.

People senselessly hate cats as it is.  I see no need to hand them any “proof” they will cling to as justification for their otherwise baseless aversions.  Besides, it probably would have been an accident.  But she would never scratch me, so this is a moot point.

3. Saying the phrase “My cat drools when she’s stimulated” doesn’t gross me out anymore.

Well, it does a little; I’m only human.  So, my cat drools.  A lot.  In the morning (and by morning, I mean 3am), she stands on my chest, hovering over my face and whines until I pet her.  Then she drools in ecstasy.  Once the drool has become so plentiful even she can’t stand it, she shakes her head, not unlike a dog emerging from a swimming pool, so that I too am covered in drool.  I usually have my mouth closed…

4. I wish it were socially acceptable to walk my cat.

Honestly, why do only dog people (and recently a lot of pig people, for some reason) get to show off their pets and meet other hot like-minded pet owners?  She’s so beautiful, I feel it’s almost unfair to keep her all to myself.  Also, she gets super hyper.  Every morning (after she finishes drooling in my mouth) and every night, she does parkour around my apartment.  I think it would do my (very few) valuables some good if she could get out that energy somewhere else.

But perhaps most importantly, my Grandpa used to walk his cat, and it was awesome.

5. I recently was asked the following question, in bed, by a guy I was hooking up with (the Dirty Hipster, for those keeping track): “Do you think it’s funny you’re a virgin with a cat?”


6. Watching my cat with her catnip makes me want to try crack cocaine, just so I can understand.

If you’ve never seen a cat with catnip, you should.  It’s a frantic excitement fueled by desire and satisfied only by the sweet, sweet chemicals of the ‘nip.  Don’t worry, it’s “not addictive” or whatever.  Drugs, man.

7. I joke that getting a cat sealed my fate of dying alone, but really, it worries me every single day.

It’s a happy confluence of things, but the perpetual single-dom of a 27-year-old is no small feat.  It takes years of dedication to remaining awkward, disinterested, emotionally unavailable and/or sexually inept.  (They say women are better at multitasking.)

8. I want another cat.

We’ll just say it’s to keep my current cat company.

Image via annetaintor.com

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