Cats! The Musical

21 Dec

I’m afraid to say that my mild obsession with cats has spun out of control.  I can’t stop talking about/emailing/referencing a pretend cat of mine, who, naturally, I named Whiskers.   Disclaimer:  It’s clearly a sign of mental instability that I’m aware of; little kids make up invisible friends, grown slores like me just pretend they own a cat.  Titillating, right?  Sensational. 

The obsession started when K babysat her brother’s overweight cat (Sonny) for a few months over the summer.  We were immediately infatuated – texting pictures of that fat little fuck to everyone we knew.   She def cried when she had to say goodbye to him.  I pretended I didn’t, but I had the most ugly cry sesh.  I’m the ugliest crier ever – tears just advance my under-eye baggage problem, which not even Laura Mercier can cure. 


I die for this cat...

In my mind, Whiskers is a close second to Sonny, except he’s more of a ginger color.  If my invisible cat is a gingy, then maybe my future offspring won’t be.   That’s also why I act like a child in an adult’s body – so my kids won’t have to.  Ya welcome, ya unborn little meatballs.


Cat Happy Hour | Easily the creepiest picture I own...


Okay, so last night I was drunkingly dreaming about Whiskers my cat.  Side note, I have the best champagne dreams ever.  I’m so blessed by that.  In the middle of a dream where I was cuddling like crazy with that little kitty, I awoke to Ru rustling around outside of the bedroom.    I was immediately distressed because he sleeps from 8 p.m. – 7 a.m. without rolling over once.  And if he ever wakes up in the middle of the night I know right away because he removes himself from on top of my back, which he treats as his own bed, within a real bed.     

But at 4:30 a.m. this morning I heard him rustling with paper and tape in the living room.   I didn’t get up because I was actually scared that he might be doing some weird shit that I didn’t want to uncover at 4:30 a.m., drunk.  Like a secret obsession of painting pictures of cats.  Except way worse, because I would actually endorse that.

He eventually came back to bed, so I CSId around this morning to try and figure him out.  From my amazing investigative skills and advanced deductive reasoning, I have come to conclusion that he was wrapping my Christmas present(s?!).  YESSSS.  

In an effort to not look vain – I bought and wrapped his presents months ago – which consist of an as-seen-on-TV vegetable chopper and an Apple TV.   I only wrote that down so I don’t change my mind last minute to keep the Apple TV for myself. 

Also, I sent him this YouTube link a few days ago ( so he definitely knows how to wrap a cat like a present.   Come to daddy, Whiskers. 



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