I woke up in a closet.

Ever think about what it’s like when you’re watching (or reading about) footage of people getting blown up by evil dudes with machine guns, then they show a dog running through the street that gets stuck in the cross-fire, and you suddenly feel immense sympathy for the dog?  It’s because animals are cute, you can’t really blame them for fucking anything up, and they need our love and attention

So I’m adopting a kitty.  Last Saturday I went to a shelter run out of someone’s home in Ozone Park in Queens.  My boyfriend and I met with an adorable, stinky little boy named Boris.  He’s a Russian Blue and enjoys flopping in our arms when being held and playing with plastic mice.  On Sunday, he’ll be sleeping on our clean laundry and throwing up on our bed.  We will welcome him warmly with some purina and a fresh litter box.

So owning a pet can be super-gross sometimes, but I have to admit there’s something about cats that’s so special.  I grew up having them and always got a little upset that they weren’t as interactive as my friends dogs.  Cats are innately mature animals.  Boris is the perfect cat because of his temperament and his tolerance for me to hug him and rub his belly.  With the latter in consideration, that makes him more like a dog, but cats don’t beg for attention.  They detect a relationship between themselves and the person, and, almost like they’re dating you, they’ll start to show hints of affection, wanting you to be their pal.  For example: Kitty sits in corner then comes up to you and brushes his face against your knee before walking away to lie down on the ground.  He’s like, totally sending signals.

I see myself falling into the camp of crazy cat lady right now, but these are animals that are an excellent test in patience.  They also eat bugs!

Anyway, Sunday, Boris will join the ranks of cats named after old Russian men in Ridgewood.