Forever Catty I Shall Be

People always, always, ALWAYS want to know about my cats. Specifically, they want to know how MANY there are. We have a lot. I won't admit the exact number because my credibility as a sane person is already pretty shaky; I don't need to add insult to injury. Plus, too many people already joke I'm the crazy cat lady. I don't need to PROVE it.

I love animals. Growing up we always had cats and, for many years, a dog. But even as a very young child until long after I moved out and got married, there were cats in my family. It takes a special kind of person to truly appreciate a cat. You don't just get a cat and instantly you've got that blindly-retarded devotion you get from a dog. A cat may owe you its life (or at least several of the nine), but you will never get it to admit that. Cats I can relate to - they aren't fake and friendly just 'cuz they oughta be. If you want a cat to like you, you're gonna have to earn it.

Jay & I, being equally warped souls, have always had cats, even before we were married. We have also always suffered with the Lay's potato chip downfall of never being able to stop at just one. We've always adopted from shelters and the Humane Society, and nothing breaks my heart more than walking up and down those stinky, caged aisles looking in cage after cage at kitty after kitty, feeling akin to Schindler himself, knowing I can only save one, but they're all worthy of love. 

I admit, many of you are stopping and double checking the link to this blog, convinced this can't possibly be me writing these words. I tell you the truth here, my faithful readers - when it comes to animals, and especially cats, I am nothing but a sucker with a capital S just like in the old cartoons, in that brief suspended moment as the character realizes his mistake after he ran off the cliff. Show me Sally Struthers and I'll show you the high score I just got in Bejeweled. Tell me about war and famine and starving children in whatever country is being focused on lately, and I'll show you how many ways I can not give a rat's ass. But if I'm watching TV and I start hearing Sarah MacLaughlan's "In the Eyes of the Angels" start playing, you can bet I've hit mute or changed the channel faster than you can say, "Was that puppy missing an eye???"

Here's my reasoning. Yes, I'm a heartless and cruel person. That's understood. But how can I rationalize ignoring the plight of humans while being haunted by sad puppy eyes and kitties with little bandaged paws? It's actually very easy. People can help themselves. Some just choose not to. Animals cannot. Whatever damage is done to them, WE have done to them. Yes, I know the same argument can be made for children, but children eventually grow up and can take care of themselves. Yes, they'll probably turn into suicide bombers or sociopaths, but they still have the choice. I have to draw my sympathy line somewhere, and right now it's with the fuzzy creatures of the world that we so callously abandon without a second thought.

So I try to save them, all of them, and unfortunately it means I have too many cats. I don't really worry that Animal Cops are on their way to my house any time soon, but we have wondered often what would happen if something DID happen to us. Our kids would get snatched up quickly 'cuz let's face it - there's a pretty high demand for cute white kids free to good homes. But we understand that whichever of our family/friends are currently listed in our will as the lucky recipients of our kitties may not feel quite like they won the lottery.

So to answer the ever present question of exactly how many cats we have, the answer is still.....too many. And as long as we have too many cats, that means my heart runneth over and alas, I simply have too little love left to give to any more humans. So don't take it personally if I seem particularly cruel and heartless - you know now that's actually my way of showing that I care. Can you feel the love?