Earlier this week, I hit the very artery from which copious amounts of bone chilling cautionary tales gush about what happens when you piss in the face of consensual relationships and decide to get a cat. This artery is better known as Cat People, a fairly low budget special on Animal Planet that documents the lives of show cats and their life partners. 
I got through only about half of the show on my high horse, pitying these people for turning their cats into giant dildos that they lube upĀ and use for their own personal enjoyment. Then I realized, I have a lot of cat stuff (shirts, figurines, plates–the usual fare for any budding Gary Ridgway) and am probably one Tabby away from perming and bleaching my hair, dressing like Barry Gibb and taking my cat to Sears so I can share a loving embrace in front of a delicately diffused background that just happens to compliment our eyes.
I blame my dad, because years ago, he bought me a t-shirt in NYC that said “Cats Fifth Avenue” with a stylishly dressed cat on the front…shopping. Thinking back, I guess I can’t really fault him, because all he was doing was making a hunch that maybe his daughter, who practiced slow dancing to Boyz II Men with her life size Bugs Bunny stuffed animal just in case the opportunity ever arrived, would enjoy a nice cat pun on a t-shirt. Unfortunately, he was right.
Still, I never thought I was one of those people. The kind who refers to their cat as a PMSing teenager and then takes a private bath with them in their cat themed bathrobe. And I’m not, but that could be because I don’t actually have a cat…yet.
The dangerous thing about cat people is that the pictures they keep in their wallet of their cat dressed up like a pumpkin for Halloween are cute until you find out that the wallet was made by collecting materials from its hairballs and you touched it. Then, you see a list about why cats are better than people and only then do you realize that you should’ve never loaned out your favorite cashmere sweater to one of them because it’s probably being used as ceremonial de-flowering sheath this very moment. How do I know that? Probably because some of the items on the list look like this:
- You don’t have to worry that your cat will do drugs or join a gang
- Your cat usually won’t leave you for another human
- Light petting is always enough to satisfy a cat
- Cats won’t drink beer and pass out on the bathroom floor
- Cats don’t brag about whom they have slept with
Even though I was reading this in my own home, I still wanted to slowly back out of the room. The content is obese with vivid details concerning the reasons why every relationship ever in a cat person’s life dissolves because of drug abuse, infidelity, or most likely…cat obsession.


{ 6 comments… read them below or add one }
I see nothing wrong with a healthy cat obsession. I still hope to become that woman in that painting I have. Maybe not in a field though. I wouldn’t want to actually have to step outside with all that fresh air.
Rofl, also, I saw that pic and immediately thought it was “cute”. I wonder if he’s single…
once, my mum looked at my white cat and seriously asked, “don’t you ever just want to make out with the cat?”
I have two cats- you know, waiting a few years on getting the other 37/attaining true Cat Lady Status. The orange one is semi-retarded and thinks he can climb walls/once licked a lobster in its “face”. The other is an Egyptian Mau who uses her intelligence for evil.
The closest the three of us have ever gotten to a true portrait was the year I bought tiny Santa hats for them and held them down long enough for my mother to take a picture, which of course was sent out with the Christmas cards.
Did it look a little something like this?:
This picture. Makes my life complete.
God it would have been so much better if I had made a scared face like the cats. They were just trying to run away from me. Maybe I should scan it and share it with the world, complete with text.