I am a twenty six year old female and I live alone. Well, that’s not entirely true: I live with three cats. How is it, you might ask, that someone who is only twenty six has already succumbed to this cliché lifestyle? Glad you asked. That is exactly what this blog is designed to figure out. Over the next several weeks, I will supply glimpses into my cat-filled life to explore exactly why it is that I’m a walking, breathing stereotype. These coming weeks are very important as I am in a rare and lucky position where I get to start my entire life over again. I am my own social experiment to see how it is that a crazy cat lady socializes, dates, and copes with providing for three demanding animals alone.
So let’s get started by introducing the main characters of this story.
First, I will introduce myself. I am moderately attractive, of average intelligence, and have a better-than average sense of fashion. Here is a picture of me at my hottest, smartest, and best dressed.
Alright, so the above only half accurate. It’s true that I’m moderately attractive and of average intelligence, but I have no sense of fashion. Also this is what I really look like.
Things I Like: Reading, writing, hiking, rainstorms, female vocalists, old movies, dancing, men, Disneyland, singing in my car, and my cats.
Things I Dislike: Tomatoes, spiders, weather hotter than 85 F, cigarette smoke, people who do not speak plainly and to the point, and people who hate cats.
His real name is Midnight, but I rarely refer to him as such. Fatty has been with me for a little over five years now. He was my uncle’s cat, but for social reasons I still don’t entirely understand, I was able to adopt the big guy. Fatty is old and sick and has a tendency to cause me much embarrassment when I have guests over. But he’s a loveable fellow and I’m doing my best to keep him around a while longer, regardless of his charming talent for puking in my shoes.
Things Fatty Dislikes: His medications and shots, Min, getting out of bed in the morning, being ignored when he wants his belly rubbed.
She’s a Turkish Angora. My parents gave her to me when one of my other cats died, leaving poor Fatty lonely. It amazes me how much personality fits inside that tiny little body.
Things Min Dislikes: Sharing anything (but mostly attention), things that offend her delicate sense of smell, and Fatty.
Roxie’s name is short for Rocket Butt, because she spastically sprints around my house for no apparent reason. Roxie joined my little entourage when it became apparent that Min and Fatty were never going to get along. I asked Min’s breeder what I could possibly do to create some peace, and she told me to get Min a kitten to play with…hence my third cat.
Things Roxie Dislikes: Guests coming to the house.
I like to complain about having three cats, but the truth of the matter is that I love them all dearly. I prefer my cats to most people. But regardless of the affection I have for them, I cannot pretend I’m unaware of the social stigma they come with. Please sit back and enjoy the future installations of my auto-ethnography, “Chronicles of a Crazy Cat Lady”, where I will attempt to accurately describe how I stumble, blunder and generally muddle through seemingly simple, everyday situations while laden with three cats and the stereotype they lend.