Recently I was told I reminded someone of Phoebe from the television show Friends. I was at a bar in Greensboro with two of my girlfriends when a male approached us and said I reminded him of Phoebe (in more or less words). At first I took this as somewhat of a compliment, seeing as Phoebe is a fairly attractive woman. I find a lot of similarities between myself and Phoebe: I like to think I have developed an earthy look about me (much to my mother's chagrin), I have been told I am a very odd person (which could or couldn't be a bad thing... TBD), and I enjoy making up songs about random things similar to Phoebe (some of my singles include "Tiger Cat", "Reese's Piece's", and "Georgie Boy").
Granted most of these hit songs were compiled while I was under the influence, they nonetheless reminded me of Phoebe and her love for writing off-the-wall songs (in particular, "Smelly Cat"). The more I thought about this man's comment, the more I began to wonder if I came across as 'the weird cat lady' to others. Ask any of my friends and they will tell you, I AM the weird cat lady. I recently found the love of my life in the Watagua Humane Society and the rest is history. So what if I talk about George as if he is a real baby? So what if I buy him more toys than an actual baby may have? So what if I write songs about him and document his every move?
Okay, so I get where this could potentially get out of hand. My phone is filled with hundreds of pictures of George doing gymnastics, sleeping, rolling over, etc. Basically, anything George does is fascinating and has probably never been done before by the average cat. I think my obsession with my new-found friend is so extreme due to the fact that he is my first cat I have ever owned. My entire family is allergic to cats (or so they say), and I have always loved all cats. So at the first chance to have a pet of my very own, it was without question that I would select a cat. George was the perfect little candidate (although he isn't very little now).
George is like my little infant. Although he seems to grow at an exponential rate, he still has that same baby face I fell in love with. Have I also mentioned that George and I share so much in common? For example, we both love naps. Our relationship is based around sleep and I have never gotten along with someone better. We are both independent creatures, we can be mean at times, we love being petted and adored, and we each seem to have nine lives (however, this does not have scientific proof to back it up). Is this a little out of the ordinary to compare myself to my cat? Maybe.
How much is too much? Obviously I would never go on a first date and talk about George's life story and how he can do no wrong (that's second date conversation material anyway). But recently I began to wonder if I will, in fact, turn out to be one of those 'cat ladies' (not that there is anything wrong with that). And more importantly, I began to think that maybe being a cat lady wouldn't be the worst thing in the world.
Yesterday my roommate bought a little pup from the same Humane Society where I found George. In the beginning George was petrified of this new furball running around our apartment. But in the span of 24 hours, George has become less timid and has actually started to play with little pup Joey. Go ahead and add this to the list of things I love about George; he is effortlessly cute swatting at this tiny puppy. George is a fearless cat.
This also reassures me that later in life, if I ever choose to get another pet, George will have no problem adapting to the situation. In essence, I don't think it's possible to talk about George too much. So what if I remind people of Phoebe? She is a funny, cat-loving, weird, hippie-esque woman. And being hippie-like is my new thing right now. So I guess I'll take it.