The Cat Lady

The other night my husband and I were watching a show that proves reality television is doing everything it can to rip the privacy curtain from the underbelly of humanity. Hoarders.

This particular episode features an elderly couple, Shirley and Jake, who say they are unable to turn away a stray cat. "I have twenty to twenty-five animals," Shirley announces. The camera exposes cats darting in and out of what must be an elaborate tunnel system through boxes and garbage piled so high you can't see the opposite wall of the room. Gearing up with gloves and face masks and nets, the brave members of animal control set forth to capture the animals, some of which turn out to be feral. Ten...twenty...thirty...fifty...the number of live cats skyrockets.

There's also another number involved in the situation, something like eighty plus...and that's how many rotting cat corpses and fossilized feline skeletons were unearthed. I hope Shirley and Jake threw at least one Halloween party before their house was cleaned up.

Watching this episode reminded me of our own neighborhood cat lady, who's like the math nerd goody-two-shoes of cat ladies compared to Shirley. Our cat lady runs a nonprofit that rescues kittens and finds them new homes, so her house is filled with cats (or I considered it to be, before watching Hoarders). In a moment of what I would later blame on insanity, I once adopted two kittens from her - only to return them two years later after having a baby and finding myself unable to cope with fur and litter on no sleep.

I don't think I have what it takes to be a cat lady.