The Crazy Cat Lady

In the list of stereotypes that I try to avoid, "crazy cat lady" is near the top of the list. (Not that there's anything wrong with that for my cat-loving friends; I'm definitely a crazy dog lady.) However, when you're Southern, 30, single and a often a bridesmaid, you'd be amazed how many people suggest your home life is full of stuffed animals, multiple cats and repeated references to Sex and the City.

For the record, I don't have stuffed animals. I didn't like Sex and the City. (Why do people judge you if Miranda's your favorite character? Wouldn't you be that dark if you spent all of your time with those three other crazies? Brunch chatter alone would be enough to push me over the homicidal edge.) And until recently, I didn't have a cat. 

I am so paranoid about people thinking I might be slinking towards "crazy cat lady" territory  that I won't buy cat food without buying dog food, too. Should I find myself in need of cat items alone, I will announce to the cashier and anyone within earshot that "I also have a dog." You know, just in case.

But, a few days ago, I found myself at a place called Cat Haven, and there really was no sense in pretending anymore.

Over Labor Day weekend, I decided to board Kitty Cat Jones since we all know how well he behaves when I go out of town, and hence the entry of Cat Haven into my life.

Now, having both a dog and a cat, I'm used to a vet's office that's pretty evenly divided between dog and cat paraphernalia. So, I wasn't quite prepared for the experience that was Cat Haven -- cat tunnels, cat calendars and about seven lounging cats to greet me as I arrived. (Also, though, complete with friendly staff and very reasonable prices.)

"Are you a first-time patient?"

"Yes," I said, putting Kitty Cat Jones on the counter in his carrier once I had adequately shut the door to prevent escaping cats -- as warned by the sign on the front door.

"We just have a few forms for you to fill out."

I provided all of the info about the cat's vaccination, etc. and handed the forms back to the lovely receptionist a few moments later.

"So, the cat's name is?" she said, eyeing the rather odd slash on my form.

"Well," I said, "he was Toonces, but them my boyfriend started calling him Kitty Cat Jones, so he kind of goes by that now.  But, a lot of his medical records are under Toonces, so I thought I'd just put them both on there."

"I see."

"Yeah," I said. "He really will answer to either." It was kind of awkward.

"Well, I'm sure he'll be just fine here," the receptionist said. "Have a great Labor Day weekend."

"You, too," I said. "Thanks so much, and I'll see y'all on Tuesday."

 I shook off my minor feelings of crazy, made sure no cats had tried to escape with me on my way out and went about the rest of my day.

About an hour later (bank deposit and Chik-fil-A run included), I noticed a missed call and voice mail on my phone. It was Cat Haven.

My first fear was that Kitty Cat Jones might have already made some enemies at Cat Haven, and I seriously considered ignoring the message and pretending I didn't receive it until after our vacation was over. I didn't have a back-up plan for Cat Haven expulsion two hours from departure time, and it's always better to ask forgiveness than permission, right?

Whether it was curiosity or self-sabotage, I listened to the message anyway and followed the directions to call Cat Haven back.

"Ms. Mills," the receptionist said, "we tried to confirm Toonces' vaccines and spaying with the Alabama Spay & Neuter clinic, but they seemed to have trouble locating his records."

Knowing I was about to sound even crazier, I attempted to apologize in advance, but the bottom line came down to this: "Oh, that's because his name was Cocoa back then. You'd have to look under Cocoa Mills for those records."

"I see."

The real lesson I learned this past weekend? My sanity/behavior has little to do with circumstance or pet choice. Cat or no, I'm just crazy, and I do appreciate the staff at Cat Haven for drawing as little attention to my off-beat behavior as possible.

But, should I decide a shopping cart is the best way to transport my belongings around the neighborhood or to the office, I want an intervention ASAP. Even I have limits.