It’s okay, I am aware I have a problem. I am aware that I talk to my friends’ babies
in the same voice I talk to felines. I
am aware that the videos of my cat getting up to hilarious antics is not
actually that hilarious to other people.
I am aware that when I die my carcass will be half consumed by my squad
of faithless feline companions (whom I will name Avengers Assemble) before
anyone discovers my demise. But I’m okay
with that. I am a cat person. We accept the occupational hazards of our
catty choices.
So with that groundwork laid, let it be
known that the second the Cat Café arrives in London I will be setting up camp outside it a week before it opens like a nerd
at Comic-Con.
I’m hoping that the cats at this café are
vetted for personality and psychological desirability, because my cat at
home is a bit of a d*ckhead. He doesn’t
wait until I’m dead to try and eat me, he gets a head start on my toes most evenings to see how much of a fight I'd put up.
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| Exorcism Kitty |
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