It was tough but I was finally able to catch the last cat on film. Like I said before, she’s a little self-conscious about her weight and quite unwilling to pose for pictures.
As you can see, she still wasn’t completely willing to work the camera. She covered up her face to avoid the paparazzi, but I was too quick for her.
So my three cats moved from my mom’s house in PA to my new apartment in NY about a week and a half ago. I haven’t lived with them since I left for college and recently my mom started threatening that if I didn’t take them, she’d find them “another home.” Is that like when you tell little kids that Fluffy is just at kitty sleep-away camp? I guess she got tired of me bringing cats home and then peacing out.
Anyways, sometimes I look around my place and think, holy shit there are cats everywhere. I started thinking how many more cats I have than anything else in my apartment: more cats than humans, more cats than tv’s, more cat furniture than people furniture. And then: does this make me a cat lady? I can’t be dubbed a cat lady at 24 years old. It would only be downhill from here; that means by the time I’m 40, I’d have like 10 cats.
So, to quell my fears (or prove them correct) I did some research on what makes someone a “cat lady”. Also sometimes prefaced by “crazy”. I googled “cat lady characteristics” and found Wikopedia’s definition. After I read it I was slightly nauseous but very relieved to realize I’m clearly not an animal hoarder. I really thought the article was a joke when they said cat ladies often hoard up to 100 cats, but as I read on I realized it’s a serious problem.
On a lighter note, I stumbled upon The Cat Lady’s column in the NY Post last week which had some interesting statistics. Thirty-nine percent of Americans own dogs and 34% own cats. But the average dog owner has 1.7 dogs while the average cat owner has 3.4 cats. (Yes! I’m .4 of a cat shorter than the rest of American cat owners!)
Although I’m not planning on adding to my collection anytime soon, I have to admit I love coming home to them after work – especially since I live alone. I also like the fact that they’re really weird. And to prove that, I’ve taken some pictures. Zubie has this thing about following me into the bathroom and then jumping in the tub and frolicking around. If I want any privacy, I literally have to run in when he isn’t looking and shut the door. I haven’t done that much since I caught his tail in the door, though.
Oh, and he also like to sit up like a person (always mindful to cover up his kitty parts).
Reesie like to lay like this for hours, paws up like she’s playing dead. I always check to make sure she’s still breathing.
As for the third cat, well, she’s a little self-conscious about her weight. Everytime I take out my camera she runs away. (Seriously though, she’s huge.)
Walking down Broome Street today, I spotted this:
After I crossed the street, he said, “Did you get the picture?” I was somewhat embarrassed that he caught me taking a picture of him, but then I thought: If you’re walking down the street with a cat on your head, you’re asking for attention. I told him I was actually too far away and the shot was blurry. He obligingly posed for me and then hit me up for money. I gave him a dollar and told him to get kitty some treats. She deserved it.
