The Truth About Cats

One of the first things I learned during this formative year of my life is that twenty-something cat owners are a far cry from other twenty-somethings. We face a unique existential crisis: are we predestined to someday become the loathed “cat ladies” of the foreseeable future, or are we just exercising our maternal instincts on a helpless animal that must endure our undying love and devotion? Does having a pet to constantly dote on in private allow us to be less clingy in real-people relationships, or would we care less about aforementioned beloved pet if we were having more sex? The chicken, or the egg?

Whatever. Alls I know is, I’m not ashamed to love my cat to teensy bits and pieces. I know plenty of proud cat owners who feel the same. That’s right: we’re out there, and we’re growing in numbers and visibility. After all, when The Stranger published “The Different Kinds of People That There Are,” #25 was “People Who Let Their Cat Walk Across Their Kitchen Cutting-Board, Even Though Those Are the Same Fucking Paws That Have Been Tramping Around That Shit-Filled Cat Box and I Don’t See a Kitty Foot-Washing Station Around Here, Do You?” Sure, it’s awkward to be called out so specifically; but we’d rather be that than #9 (People Who Will Just Have a Bite of Whatever You’re Having).

On top of the young-cat owner-hardship fudge sundae, I found an unsavory cherry: my cat doesn’t enjoy anything cat-like. She’s an elitist of the worst kind; choosing to stretch her claws on leather chairs rather than scratching posts, opting to drink water out of a coffee mug rather than her cat bowl, batting around perfectly good socks rather than toy mouses that squeak when you squeeze them. The day I found her enjoying a brie sandwich while reading The New Yorker atop the toilet, I knew it was time to culminate the madness.

Fat Cat had that good shit that made my cat start acting like the sort of animal that uses the same powder room several days in a row. Pretentious as she is, I knew she would need a little something to take the edge off before she resorted to using cat toys, in public, no less. So first, we copped some green for kitty.

Zoom Around The Room Catnip had my cat doing back flips, cooking breakfast, and all kinds of shit you’ve never seen before. Watching her literally “zoom around the room” was almost as entertaining as getting intoxicated myself, and watching her enthusiasm go from 0 to 60 with one whiff of the stuff had me questioning whether I should give it a go and join her. 100% organic, this is a great, natural way to rev up any cat who is not adding to your home by being completely zany and interesting. Use in front of guests for added effect.

Once the catnip brought the real animal out of the cat, I made it my business to ween her off of scratching only the most expensive of our furnishings. Big Mama’s Scratchy Box and Big Mama’s Scratch-O-Rama combined with catnip morphed from rudimentary cat fodder into devil’s playthings (my cat being the devil). Sprinkle a little green on top of the reusable scratching box or mat, and your cat will go to town like a dope fiend that dropped the last rock under the couch cushions.

Finally, it was time to lay down the law and convince the cat that drinking out of her own bowl could be just as exciting as drinking out of one of my half-full water glasses on the bedside table. No easy task, but made slightly easier with Bamboo’s Silicon Travel Bowls. These user-friendly bowls pop open, so when closed they’re slim enough to store in your pocket and they come in bright, eyecatching colors. Also the perfect size for dogs and even small children, if you’re a sadist and going on a picnic. As for me, I’m still pouring iced Perrier into the cat’s bowl and leaving it somewhere hard to reach, but I’m proud of the progress she’s been making.