Freaky Feline Folks

Good, gracious granny, don’t get yer bloomers in a bunch until you read it all.

Let me start by saying I like cats. That statement and the fact that no one knows where I live might save me. How about this statement? No cats, PETA members or vegans, were hurt during the writing of this piece. I’m afraid that made it worse.  I know I’m treading in dangerous water, so it’s best to make my case and get it over with.

I love cats and vegetarians, they taste like chicken. The truth: I don’t like chicken. There is a house on Star Island in Miami referred to as the Cat House. It is located two doors down from the $58 million home of Dr. Phillip Frost and is worth about $22 million. I cannot for the life of me find out who the cat lady was, or when exactly that she died. I did, however, find a classified ad looking for people who love cats and who have impeccable references. The crazy cat lady left her estate to her cats. Rumor is that 14 to 20 cats live in the lap of luxury at her estate and will continue to do so until they all die. Did this woman have kids? How do they feel about this?

Talk about going postal and having a valid reason to do so. Imagine waiting on cats day and night for minimum wage. Imagine watching your own children struggle with life, love and their education, while pampering a bunch of cats that have a better house, better food and possibly better health care. The world is insane.

I believe that someone must have dropped this lady on her head as a child. Alright now, let’s take a look at the stereotypical crazy cat lady; sorry person. He or she must be near or above middle age and have very few friends. Their family must only talk to them out of an overdeveloped sense of responsibility. They must have given up totality on the idea of ever finding Mr. or Mrs. Left, much less right. They must be able to carry on a conversation with any unsuspecting person who might wander into their house. All the while, keeping a straight face as the innocent person turns green from the smell of cat urine and other things we can’t mention here. Traveling salesmen, members of religious originations, census worker, social workers and people who work for charities, all fall into this list of unfortunate souls and are always welcomed at the crazy cat person's house. If you sell brushes, knives or vacuum cleaners and the door is opened wide when you knock; you are at the Munster’s or Adam’s family’s door, or in the movie Wrong Turn, worse you might be entering the house of a crazy cat person. Your eyes will water, your nose hairs are about to be melted, and your nostrils are going to be assaulted like never before.

Did you know that John Lennon once referred to himself as the crazy cat lady in disguise? John Lennon loved cats. His first cat was named Elvis. He once owned ten cats at one time, one cat's name was Jesus. His favorite cat, Alice, quite by accident jumped from the window of their high-rise apartment and used up all her lives at one time. She died on the same sidewalk he would later die on. His son Sean said that the day of Alice’s death, was the only time he ever witnessed his father cry.

Recently, federal charges were filed against the museum dedicated to Ernest Hemingway on Key West. In 1935, Hemingway was given a six-toed cat by a friend who was a sea captain. He loved his cats so much that when he died he made provisions for them in his will. The cats will be cared for until the last one dies. At present, there are somewhere near sixty cats living in the museum. The six and seven-toed cats, known as Hemingway’s cat are not actually a breed, but are genetically deformed.

The U.S. Department of Agriculture has decided that the museum no longer represents one of our most beloved writers, but has become a cat exhibition. What do they want? To impose regulations and charge fees. What else?

A vet visits each year to administer shots. They say it’s hard to get all of them, as once you pop one, he tells the rest, and so on. By the time you get to the last cats, they’re nowhere to be found.

Don’t confuse cat hoarders with the circumstances above. Animal hoarding is a mental illness, which is bad for the animals and people involved. The above people simply love cats.

When I look in the mirror, I see the crazy cat  lady hiding inside me. I love cats and have cried at a few cat funerals. I dare say I will again.