The Perks of Being a Cat Lady

You’re exhausted.

It’s been a long day at work, and by the time you get home, you want nothing more than to just put on your pajamas and fuzzy slippers and curl up with a cup of tea, even though it’s only 5:30 p.m.  When you turn the key of your 400 square foot apartment and hear the loud thumping paws of a furry ball of lard rushing to greet you, you’re reminded of the wonderful privilege and responsibility of having a live-in feline companion.

As you open the door, the giant beast immediately rubs himself all over your no-longer-stylish black slacks, leaving enough fur to send to “kitty locks of love.”  You sigh, realizing that this is the last clean pair of black slacks you own and your regular laundromat day is Saturday.  Doing laundry on Monday would only result in completely throwing your schedule off.

You walk the 20 ft from your front door to your bedroom, trying not to stumble over the meowing marshmallow ball rushing in between your feet, excited to tell you everything about his day.  While changing into your pink polka dot pajamas, you stop twice to pet your fatty fat walrus who is short of breath after rushing to meet you at the door.  After stepping into your slippers, you start to head into the kitchen to make your highly anticipated tea, but realize that your precocious companion isn’t following you.  You turn back and see him still lying on the bed, clearly too exhausted from his 20 seconds of exercise to move a muscle.  Or a fatty tissue.

You sigh, but walk toward him and scoop him up in your arms, which ignites a purr louder than all the engines at a Midwestern tractor pull combined.

Placing him down at your feet while you fill your Hello Kitty tea kettle with just enough water for one, you realize that the additional 20 pounds of flab are making your feet nice and toasty and decide to stand there for just a few more seconds to relish in it.

After you pour the hot water into your monogrammed mug where you have placed a bag of an off-brand berry mixture tea, you scoop your cat-child up and head for your reading chair.  As you reach for the new book you started last night, your cat looks up at you, his soulful eyes wishing for attention.  You try to break away after a second, knowing that the longer you keep eye contact, the harder it will be to resist.

Then you realize…it’s already too late.

With a sigh so inaudible your cat pretends not to notice, you set your book down and reach for your cat’s brush.  For the next 15 minutes, you brush, brush, and brush your feline until you have a ball of fur almost too big to fit in the palm of your hand.  It’s about the same size as last night’s ball of fur, but a little smaller than the one the night before that, so it’s possible that your miniature lion isn’t shedding as much anymore.

You know you’re finished brushing when your cat begins to tussle.  Tussling is one of his favorite ways to exercise, but it often involves your hands becoming mutilated with disgusting bites and scratches.  After a few minutes of tussling, he leaps off your lap and wanders into the kitchen for some much needed nourishment.

When he doesn’t reappear after a few seconds, you once again reach for your book.  As soon as you flip it open to the page where you left off, you hear a thunderous scampering headed in your direction.  As he leaps and makes it half-way up the chair, you quickly grab his panting body and pull him the rest of the distance, put your book away, and settle in for yet another evening petting your cat.

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