Crazy Cat Lady

I used to tell people that if I never met The One, I would grow up to be the “crazy cat lady.” You know, the weird sweet little old lady who lives down the block in a 2-bedroom craftsman-style house with her 5 million cats.

AND/OR: I’d be like the lady I encountered on an LA freeway last week, putzing along with multiple bumper stickers proclaiming her love for all things feline:

Thankfully for all involved, I did meet The One, and he has a strict “2-cat maximum” policy.

But I still love my cat. A LOT. I mean, if my cat were a baby, I’d be like the person who has to upgrade their online photo account because the entire free allotment is already filled with pictures of the baby’s face. If my cat were a tiny dog, I would be the person who has to dress it in pink sweaters with little matching booties. You know, the borderline obsessive, totally-believe-everyone-else-cares-when-they-don’t kind of love.

This is why even though I may take a lot of photos of my cat, I do not post many on the blog.

But sometimes I can’t help myself. Like when she is sleeping on top of the couch, upside-down with her paws in the air and her chubby white belly on display:

I had to share. I just couldn’t help it.  Call me crazy.