Hairy Porn

She's S U C H a beautiful individual.

Shutup. She is.

Who me? A Catophile?

This is what I am. Apparently.
A Catophile.
It's true.
It's Brandon's new nickname for me.
See, I just think I love my cats too much.
Is that even possible?
The big problem is, I've begun to inappropriately flirt with them. First off, I'm married, and second of all, they're, you know, cats.
I affectionately refer to Bobbi (See picture. She's twenty-five pounds, by the way, still more than Cade) as my Urban Cowboy.
It doesn't sound outright dirty, but oh. It is.
And then there's Hairy.
My Mental Kitten.
I have a special love I reserve for this amazing fur-ball of joy.
I told her that her "...eyes were deep wells of fathomless love and beauty," and that she "made me feel like a woman."
See this is what I'm talking about.
It comes out before I even know what's happening.
I have no control, I swear.
Huh.
So it's official.
I'm a crazy cat lady.
I'll be the person in years to come who lives in a nasty apartement with thirty-seven cats watching re-runs of "Golden Girls" all day while knitting kimonos and leg-warmers for the cats.
And you know what?
I'm okay with this.
The Crazy Cat Lover has embraced her weirdness!
Oh PS: I'm not going to really, you know, let my flirting become anything physical. I'm committed to my marriage.