And so it begins.

So, it's been awhile. Welcome back, faux-communication.

I really think my life could be a reality TV show. I'm not even kidding.

For those of you who haven't heard the news, I got myself a kitty kitty. In all honesty, I wanted a cute little puppy dog. Alas, the T in my Myers-Briggs eventually came out in full force and made me realize that I don't have time for a puppy dog. So, as I told my friend in good 'ole Riverside, I wanted to get a cat. It just so happened that a friend of his (who had adopted two of his cat's kittens) needed to pass off a bundle of joy onto another unsuspecting cat-wanter. That was me.

So, ladies, gentlemen, and others, I present to you Mr. Chester Michael Scofield-Frost. (His original name was Checkers, but I felt compelled to rename him). He has a really weird purr and growls at almost everything. He likes to lay in my window sill and stare aimlessly into the abyss. He gets scared when he hears footsteps. He likes being brushed. He responds to his name. He has bad dreams and cries out in the night. He's the perfect deranged cat for me, and I'm so excited to have him in my life.

My boyfriend John told me that I was soon going to become "one of those cat lovers who buys everything for their cat," and I quickly shunned him and scoffed in disbelief.

Boy, was I wrong.

Mr. Chester Michael Scofield-Frost needed a collar, so I got him a really awesome bright red one. He also needed a food dish, water bowl, and litterbox, so I got him the coolest igloo-style litterbox in the entire world, complete with ramp and litter liners; he needed something to play with, so I got him a wooden dowel with a toy bird at the end of a string; he needed something to scratch his paws on, so I bought him a scratch pad (they work REALLY well); he needed to look pretty, so I bough him a fancy brush; he needed to shed his hair on something other than my couch, so I bought him a cat bed... I'm becoming that cat lover who buys everything for my cat.

I'm determined to get him on a leash for walks. I'm even more determined to go jogging with the guy. He's probably the laziest thing I've ever witnessed, and calling him overweight would be a disgrace to the fat cats of this world. Yesterday, he spend the entire day rubbing fur into my micro-plush couch. What he needs is a kitty treadmill, but I think some coercion and some delicious treats will help him a bit. Oh yeah, I bought those too...

Your mileage may vary.