Love Cats

I was in a polite mood, or else it wouldn't have lasted for twenty minutes, but on my attempt to purchase cat food and litter at the store last night I was accosted by crazy cat lady.

The crazy cat lady has achieved almost archetypal status, if we don't personally know one, we certainly know who they are. They are lonely, probably unkempt and smell vaguely of things people shouldn't smell of. There are degrees of crazy in the crazy cat lady categorization which seem to range between still able to sort of function in the outside world and shut-ins speaking in tongues.

My specimen didn't exactly look homeless, but looked like she had seen better days. Her glasses were five shades of fucked up and she spoke in low, slow and even tones, occasionally stumbling on her words. Her hair appeared clean, but looked as though she washed it with dish soap.

It started with me noting the sales price on the Arm and Hammer kitty litter to myself and her letting me kindly know that the clumping litter causes cancer in cats. As does flea spray and cat food, unless of course you make it yourself. You can buy the natural cat food at stores, like that one on Twelfth. I tried to go there, but I've been trying to find out how to make my own, you know? Have you seen that guy that's on Martha Stewart that talks about pets? {Slowly shake my head}. He loves animals, you can just tell. And one time he did a commercial for kitty litter and I wrote him a letter {I'm sure you did} asking him about it and how kitty litter gives cats cancer and why would he do this commercial. He denied doing it, and I didn't want to argue with him, but I saw that he did it. Do you ever watch Oprah? {Again, slowly shake my head}. You don't watch Oprah? {As if this were akin to raping one of her cancer cats}.

When I told her that I was typically at work when Oprah was on, I was kindly informed that it is played twice in the Seattle area, and where I could watch the evening edition and on which station (including the call letters). I was then treated to the tales of her two cats which developed cancer, and the various vet stories, and how she had apparently catnapped her neighbor's orange tabby, and lord only knows what else because I started attempting to block out the crazy by the sheer force of my mental powers.

I tried all my polite attempts to extricate myself from the crazy cat lady trap (including slowly walking away, to which she would slowly follow me) only to be met and bested. Bitch was good. But after twenty minutes... Let me write that again, TWENTY MINUTES! I had to firmly tell my feline queen that I had to be on my way.

Kelly Bean came up with the idea of getting cards that I could pass out to the crazies, and quickly escape by saying, "I would really love to talk to you, call me". It was my idea to put the number for recorded time message on said cards.

Ultimately, I could tell that she was a lonely lady who had no one else to talk to besides her abducted cat. I felt a little bad for her, and she didn't seem dangerous. Was there also that brief flash of recognition, that precognitive glimpse of myself as an old man hanging around the Denny's and telling the tired waitresses about how things were done in my day?

Maybe, but personally I see myself going out in a blaze of ill-advised glory, and taking more than a few people with me.


Oh, by the by... I'm taking a little time off, and I don't know how readily available a computer will be, so there may not be many posts next week (if at all). Sorry, but a full report will follow.