Dear Diary,
I didn’t mean for it to happen but it just did.
It was so easy with a strange sense of comfortable love.
And before I knew it,
I was truly and deeply…
a cat lady.
Xoxo Brittany
You’re probably surprised by this news?
To be honest, so was I.
I found myself asking: When the hell did this happen?
I started noticing little symptoms here and there that led me to this (self) diagnosis:
For example: Excusing myself from making plans to hang out with my cats.
Or catching myself on the dance floor thinking my cats make a better dance partner.
And there was the solid evidence of the time(s)* I ran into old friends at the grocery store with a cart full of cat litter and wine.
Regardless, it was an accident.
Think back a few years:
I know you remember it.
Cats.
Cat ladies.
It was an up and coming trend.
Cat socks. Cat memes. Cat sweaters. Grumpy Cat. (R.I.P)
But why?
We’ve all been there:
“Ok we get it Becky, you love your f*cking cat. Do we really need to be subjected to Fluffy wearing yet another stupid sweater you knitted perfectly tailored to her furry little body? Seriously? Who has that time?”
Well Becky, I finally get it.
Look at me now, world:
I surrendered to the power of the Pousseys**.
This past year I’ve been living with and caring for two cats:
Lizzy and Betty Wray.
They greet me when I get home. So sweet right?
They love to cuddle but enjoy dancing just as much. Best of both worlds.
And although Lizzy almost gives me a heart attack everyday with her death meow*** and Betty Wray sounds like a human saying “hello” on repeat…
They don’t talk**** too much.
And honestly, they aren’t high maintenance either.
It was a gradual build.
An unsuspecting friendship bonding the likes of two worlds.
First, it was a conversation here or there, one sided, of course, other than the occasional “meow” stamp of approval.
Then it turned into bonding over beverages.
Before you knew it, I was one with their universe.
I even started considering their litter boxes my zen sand gardens…
Raking cat shit and clumps of urine has become my daily meditation.
It’s a bit of a give and take relationship, if you will.
I give them food and attention, and they give me gifts of many kinds.*****
They’ve also taught me important lessons like:
Lizzy: (AKA the Queen) has taught me to appreciate a dose of daily intimacy via her furry hugs. She also taught me ALL about perseverance, we should never ever give up on our goals, (She accomplishes this with her death meow.*** What the Queen wants, the Queen gets.)
Betty Wray (AKA the introverted attention whore) has brought to my awareness some of my inner struggles in the romance department. In fact, on that level, we connect across breeds with the same mantra: Look at me, touch me, let me breathe in your ear until you acknowledge my presence.
Lessoned learn. That shit is annoying.
But-
At the end of the day, they sure do know how to make you feel loved.
I mean, I’m writing this with one cat nestled on my neck and the other sleeping on my lap.
Sure, it’s not the most convenient set up, and I’m getting a cramp in my side…
But they are so freaking cute.
^You see that?^
That’s something a certified Cat Lady would say.
It’s official.
I have sent in my application.
And I’ve been approved.
It’s now a part of me.
I’m that Becky with the cat photos.
An accidental cat lady.
Feeling blessed to be on this blog yet?
Yeah, you should be.
Have I peaked your curiosity?
Are you considering becoming an accidental Cat Lady?
If yes, you can watch my latest annoying cat photos and videos here.
If not, do it anyway.
But for now, I will leave you with this for your viewing pleasure:
Stay in touch <3
*Y’all know this has happened more than once, okay. It’s fine. Read more here.
**My aunt Poussey (Poo-see) was super pissed when we didn’t name one of my sisters after her, therefore I name objects or cats in her honor.
***The loudest most terrifying sound that exits Lizzy’s mouth. It’s almost equivalent to someone jumping out of nowhere screaming “BOO!!!!” On repeat while making direct eye contact.
****Let’s get something straight…
I was going to deny talking to my cats.
But that is a lie.
I totally do…
*****Dead rabbits stuffed behind curtains, urine surprises, sacrificial lizard bits and pieces waiting outside my bedroom door.