I think I have to finally admit it.  I’m one of those people.  You know the kind – the ones walking that razor-sharp line between doting pet owner and Crazy Cat Lady.

I have a few things in my favor:

1. I’m married
2. I have only two cats
3. I don’t dress my cats in wee little outfits
4. I have not named my cats Mr. Whisker-Snoot, Figgy Fluffybottom or similar

The opposing argument:

1. I refer to my cats as my children with four legs and a tail
2. I’m guilty of kitty baby-talk when bringing out or putting away cat toys for them
3. I buy my cats Christmas presents
4. Each feline also has a Christmas stocking which Santa Claws fills
5. I will lie all night in an uncomfortable position because there’s a cat sleeping on me and I can’t bear to disturb her
6. The cats have more toys than I have bras.  And I have a LOT of bras.

Overall, the girls have it pretty good.  They get fed twice a day, plus treats at bedtime.  They get play and snuggle time on demand, and only when it suits them.  They own everything in the house, including me.

If I’m reincarnated as a cat, is that a step down or a step up?

Orange Cat has a habit of sitting on the arm of the couch in a kitty loaf when I’m there, and I frequently refer to her as a little gargoyle, especially when she yawns.  That cat has some serious fangs, and it’s amusing to watch her eyes roll back in her head as her ears flatten.  Tonight, she showed me just what a gargoyle can be like.

For those who are unaware, gargoyles were traditionally put on buildings to function as a sort of rain spout and direct the flow of rainwater away from the building and onto the ground below.  Orange Cat was in her usual loaf, and I was doing a bit of reading when I thought I heard an unusual sound from her.  I looked to my left and saw her with her mouth wide open . . . about to vomit all over the shiatsu massager pillow lying on the floor directly under her.   In a split second I managed to dive down and smack the pillow away, but I was barely too slow.  I sent the pillow flying, and Orange Cat’s unchewed and undigested dinner along with it, scattering bits of kibble on the pillow and onto the floor.

A few pieces of unimportant paper and catalogs that I wasn’t intending to order anything from were baptized, those went straight into the trash.  The pillow wasn’t as bad as it could have been, the food explosion was less concentrated and more spread out, and since most of the food was whole, wasn’t too bad to clean.  The carpet required a little scrubbing, but thanks to the scatter wasn’t bad at all.  I still hate cleaning up cat puke, but I’ve dealt with so much worse, this was just plain funny.

Poor cat.  At least the gargoyles in France don’t vomit Purina cat food all over you.