My family loves cats. No, scratch that--they don't just love them. They're crazy-obsessed with them. Not Ripley's Believe It Or Not crazy-obsessed, mind you. Just the normal kind of crazy.
Growing up away from the fam in college, I'd be coming home for vacation to a house that's bursting at the seams with tawny and black-tipped furballs. Each vacation stay is a different family history: a whole generation of cats that replenished the line of the ones that ran away from home wanting to be independent. I mean, who wouldn't, with my family smothering them with TLC like anything you've ever seen. Mom and the kids would adopt pusakals or stray cats by the truckload with willful abandon, not caring where they came from or if they had the playboy bunny gene which predisposes one to make more babies than they can keep track of. Apparently, we’ve become quite popular in the cat community as the good samaritans/suckers of Gov. Ramos Avenue that strange cats would just show up on our doorstop, expectant and waiting to be taken in and fed and bathed. There has never been a more implicit display of effective word-of-mouth marketing than in our extended household.
Them cats are like family that sometimes it’s hard to tell apart my brothers from the short-hairs lolling about the house with a languorous air of entitlement. If the kitties make a boo-boo, Dad would scold them in the same way he would us kids, and even practice his corny jokes on them every chance he could. Ina/Grandma was once in tears, heartbroken, when Faisal, my brother, accidentally ran over the dazzlingly white kitty that was everyone's favorite then because it had the misfortune of playing in the yard when brother dearest was pulling the car up into the driveway one night. If anyone in my family had an allergy to the cat species, even if it killed them, they'd better get over it real quick lest they risk being booted from hearth and home where our furry, feline adoptees are deemed little overlords.
Right below is how Dad would look like in a classic family scenario if we turn feline in our next lives. Except that maybe it should be "7pm" instead of "11pm". Dad's old school like that.
I super love the furry, merry brood of critters in this selection. Looking at them, I hate to say it but I'm going "Awwww..." all over again. Sappy, I know. But what can I do? These pics instantly tug and poke at certain parts of my heart. Damn cute.
Photos courtesy of icanhascheezburger.
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