“You’re a crazy cat lady.”
Multiple friends have said this, posted it on my Facebook profile, told it to me in person. This was mostly after I adopted my second cat, Bacardi. (Mostly.) It’s a dark and slippery slope, everyone seemed to be saying. Before you know it, you’ll be living in a rundown house, with no friends, surrounded by forty cats who will eat you when you die. I think my friends have been watching too much “Animal Hoarders.”
So what, then, defines a crazy cat lady?
After all, I’m a young woman (with a boyfriend, if that needs to be a point); I go out with my friends; I have two jobs; I’m finishing up my master’s degree. Sure, I spend way too much money on cat food and sometimes talk for way too long about Smirnoff and Bacardi but—well, they fascinate me. It’s my inner zoologist that’s speaking, not my inner cat lady.
“You’re gonna adopt a third cat. Just wait.”
The Failed Prank
Last April Fools, I posted a photo of a cat at the shelter (it was an old photo, and the cat, Mrs. Pringles, had long since been adopted) with the caption:
Meet the newest member of my kitty family! Kahlua will be coming home with me today. So excited!! 😀
A few of my friends got the joke – in fact, I didn’t think it was a particularly convincing prank, and yet I still had people three months later asking me, “hey, didn’t you get a third cat?”
Occasionally I try to explain myself. “No, I won’t become a crazy cat lady because: Continue reading “A Lady Who’s Not So Crazy”