CATS AREN'T BABIES!

But you knew that already. I'm the only person foolish enough to think "hmmm, too early for babies, let's just get a cat!!"
I HATE cats.
It all started when Jonathan found an injured kitten and brought it home.
I awoke in the middle on the night to hear Jonathan drunkenly saying "David! David no! Come here David. Sit on my lap David."
And I am thinking who the fuck is David and why is he sitting on my fiancee's lap??"
So I stumble out of bed to find out what's going on only to find Jonathan lying on the futon with a 3 month old grey kitten on his chest.
"This is Little David Bowie. I found him on the street, and he's hurt his paw, and I love him so much, and we have to keep him, please can we keep him, say we can keep him!!"
And I said "sure, we can keep him" and we all lay down on the futon to sleep and be a family.
Now, my response then was natural. It was late, I was groggy and a tiny kitten seemed like the best way to get a drunken Jonathan to shut up and let me get back to sleep already.
However, what happened next can only be described as flat out, embarassing baby lust.
Little David Bowie had real owners who eventually came to pick him up and we were left without a cat.
Jonathan was philisophical about this; sad to lose David, but feeling that two Guinea Pigs and a kitten in a one bedroom apartment probably wouldn't have been the best idea anyway.
I disagreed.
Violently.
I NEEDED a kitten. I had so much LOVE to give and I needed a damn kitten to give it to.
"But you have the Guinea Pigs" he reasoned.
"The Guinea Pigs HATE ME" I countered tearfully (which is true enough... they hate everyone).
So off we went to the SPCA to find me a kitten to be my temporary baby until such a time in the future as we could have a real one.
Only here's the thing... cats live FOREVER!
And babys don't have claws... and they don't claw your BRAND NEW SHOES in the middle of the night in a fit of revenge because you won't let them sleep curled around your face.
No, cats are NOT babies, and now I am stuck with a mistake for 20 years who likes to bite me and give me allergy attacks and track poo on the rug.
But that is what my life is; one big pooey rug.