My friend wants to get a cat.
Of course, being a compassionate and caring friend, I immediately offered my thoughts on cutesy cat names like “Mitten” or “Cookiemonster.” I helped her do research on cat breeds. I even reassured her that cats sounded like great pets (less needy than dogs, more furry than fish). And at no point did I wonder aloud, “Single and in your twenties… do you really want to get a cat?”
Yes, I think it’s bold and honorable that my friend is trying to shatter the glass litter box. Cat ownership should not be limited to lonely, hunchbacked, elderly women who wear triangle-frame spectacles and veer wildly off-topic in everyday conversation. The new Cat Lady demographic will skew younger, less nearsighted, and more lucid. The cat companionship creed shall read: “Cats: A Young, Single Woman’s Best Friend.”
Haters will say that this is the beginning of the end for my friend. They’ll say that cats are haughty and antisocial. They’ll say that she won’t ever meet anyone walking her cat at the park (not anyone worth meeting, anyways). They’ll say that she will end up an old, lonely, hunchbacked woman with a slew of cats gnawing at her toes, hoping that she’s dead.
But, who needs earthly human companions anyway? No, a cat’s meow can’t alert us of burglars or help us set up a retirement plan. Still, a sweet, declawed tabby cat can be a wonderful, low-cost, husband-alternative: one who will stay loyal, listen to your grievances, and obediently appear in your Christmas card photos dressed like a midget Santa Claus. Plus, once your cat has babies, you’ll be able to fill the other half of your queen-sized bed with those warm bodies. You may always have to settle for being big spoon (unless you decides to get a tiger), but at least you’ll have someone.
For my friend, it’s a big decision, of course… big enough to warrant a one-hour special on Animal Planet. I just hope that she considers all the implications of her groundbreaking role as Young Cat Lady. I don’t want her to have any regrets…
Speaking of regrets (and veering wildly off-topic), this weekend I saw a shirtless hiker with the following tattooed around his left nipple: L (nipple) L. And I did.