But I DO have a cat who is 17 and adored to such a high degree that she might have sprang from my loins all furry and stripey and awesome.
JJ would say this is her "If you die, I will eat your face" look, but I know love when I see it.
I am not rich, so I will never be known as "eccentric." I am the non-rich equivalent, the "crazy cat lady." Sure she's only one cat and Mr. Snarky is allergic so the chances of my ever filling our home with an inappropriate number of dandery fluffballs is slim, but I saw this the other day and I totally embraced my inner crazy cat lady. Hard. My inner crazy cat lady may have been doing the dance of the seven veils, in a totally non-sexual way.
Even the model is too ashamed to show her face...
But for the record this is on back-order, so at least I am in good company.
It's like being Twitarded, only with cats instead of hot undead sparkly teenagers.
The problem (aside from the expense) is I am massively uncomfortable with the idea of drawing attention to myself and I think I might actually draw attention to myself if I started pushing my little bundle of fur down the street in the cat-carrier equivalent of a fancy baby stroller. Maybe I need to be jogging with it - that way, people will have to catch me if they want to ask questions like "wait - when did you have a baby???" Oooor I can just push it in circles in my back yard, which would probably better for everyone (and our collective self esteem, cat included).
On a scale of one to fucking nuts, how crazy does this make me?