Tuesday, April 26, 2011
The cat lady.
You: Cat Lady, with oversized military-green jacket and matted hair purchasing cat litter.
Me: confused man standing in the cat box aisle comparing the differences between one mechanical auto-scooping cat box to another mechanical auto-scooping cat box with saratoga wagon cover.
I made first conversation - That might have been my downfall.
"Excuse me, have you used one of these? Do you know which one is better...?"
You whipped around on your heels. Your eyes turned black and the parakeets on aisle 5 went deadly silent as they seemed to already know my fate.
"O.M.G, Yes! My babies love it they really do. Before I got one they would come up to me and say 'Mom, what is the deal with the dirty litter box?!' but now they are happy and we enjoy it together a lot..."
I was already confused when you referred to them as your children... but then something exploded in my brain when you said all of you enjoy the cat box together...
But it did not stop there. No, you then pantomimed - in the middle of the aisle - how your cats reacted the first time you brought the new box home and set it up for them. There was jumping and impressions and what looked like character acting.
I thought Allen Funt might suddenly jump from behind the fishtanks and shout "You're on Candid Camera!"
Alas, he did not. And I was forced to watch the three-act street performance before me in stunned amazement.
To you, dear Cat Lady, and your dedication. Both my girlfriend and I were sufficiently informed and terrified about our purchase.