Cats

Okay, I need to get something off my chest.  Before I continue with a blog about acting, Colorado, weddings, life blah blah blah--let me say again for some, for the first time for others--that I love cats.  Like, loooooove cats.  I dork out about them.  I like LOL cats (http://icanhascheezburger.com/).  I like stupid cat videos on YouTube.  I like cat greeting cards.  I stop at t-shirts, though it may be I just haven't found the "right" cat t-shirt.  Any cat I see anywhere I crouch down and utter "Kiiiiittttennnn!" in a high pitched, elfin sort of voice.  I recently read that cats respond to higher pitches of sound, which probably explains why I have been screeching at them the way I have since I was a kid, and why it's so effective.  (I must add that my two year old kitty, Nolan, just meowed and came in the house.  "Kiiiittttttennn!" was just uttered.)

Nolan: 

Cats also like me.  I fancy myself a bit of a cat whisperer.  Cats that aren't normally friendly?  I am usually able to scratch their bellies within five minutes of meeting them.  Cats make me feel all warm and fuzzy and "at home" whatever that means.  I have a tendency to miss my cat(s) when I am away and not the people that I love.  If I am ever widowed I will be a crazy cat lady--without the hoarding and the cats defecating on/near/behind stacks of newspaper. 

Occasionally, my love for cats leads to their humiliation and in some cases, "mild catabuse" of the dressing-up-said-cat-in-a-really-stupid-elf-costume variety.  The poor victim below is Marlowe, the cat of my previous roommate and current bestie, Rebecca.  Marlowe, being the mellow and less than brilliant cat that he is, accepted this abuse for a record length of time totaling 48 seconds.  Poor kitty. 

So, as I come out of the cat-loving closet, I hope you don't think less of me.  I do so love my two, adopted dogs (Candy and Buford) as well, but my first love in the animal kingdom will forever be the feline.