The Difference Between Cat People and People Who Like Cats

I like cats, but I'm not insane. Cat People are insane. I'd like to introduce you to my new friend Ruth Bader Catsburg (Catspurrrgh):

She's not the classiest pussy on the block - likes to sleep on dirty socks and drink out of the toilet. She doesn't really meow, but she will occasionally screech like some sort of bare-assed monkey and it's so strange and startling that the first time I heard it, I thought someone broke into my apartment.

Getting the cat was a lengthy process that involved dealing with lots of "cat people." I started out with an adoption application at The Greater New Haven Cat Project - it was about 3 pages of essay questions that forced me to detail how my last cat died, how I felt about it and why I felt entitled to a chance at a new cat. The next round was a telephone interview in which a cat person quizzed me on my essay answers, various opinions about the appropriate way to care for a cat (declaw vs. claws, would I kick out a roommate with cat allergies) and other pertinent details about whether I'd take a bullet for the cat, etc. Once I passed that round, I was invited to come meet all of the cats for adoption. I went in the day before Christmas and they had me sit on the floor while they opened all the cages and let the cats swarm me like a pack of lemmings. Only one cat actually attacked, but not only did she attack, she had to be physically removed from my body by two of their volunteer cat ranch hands.

From this experience, I still picked a pair of brothers that were adorable and funny to watch. I was already calling them Butch Cat-siddy and the Sundance Kitty in my head. I let the center know two days later and didn't hear back. Almost a week went by when the center director left me a message on New Year's Eve that she wanted me to come back and spend more time with the cats (hell no) and also, the brothers had some sort of diarrheal-type issue that would need to be cleared up before they'd be ready to go home. I couldn't make it that day, so I emailed and asked if I could reschedule. After a few days, I called and left her a return voicemail asking if I could come back in and got a follow-up email that said she didn't feel that I had "connected" with any of the cats the way they like to see it happen. Another potential adoptive parent had come in and one of the cats I wanted rolled over and let her scratch his belly, so she felt that her instincts were correct and I wasn't the "right" owner for them because the cats hadn't chosen me. As the director, that cat had never even allowed her to rub his belly, so there was the proof. Insane.

A friend called me the next day and said Petco was having an adoption event so I went and grabbed the first cat that didn't look like it had been run over by a car five times before ending up in the shelter. The girl cleaning the cages said she wanted a particularly fat, old-looking cat because she'd fostered him and he was great, but she couldn't keep him because she already had 10 cats.

Since I can't do a photo shoot yet because she isn't so in love with me, here is my crappy photoshop attempt at showing you the coolest SUPREME CAT JUSTICE!

Or a slightly more professional, but intensely more terrifying version: