I CAN'T help it if I'm gearing up to be one of those woman who die alone and is eaten by her cats. I like cats. In fact, I like cats better than I like a lot of people.
Not that I'm yet wandering the streets with half a dozen cats in a pram talking to myself and swearing at random passers-by - no matter how tempting that sounds.
And I'm not one of those women who lives in a house with 56 cats, all pooping where they please. I live with a normal-ish man and just one cat. None of us poops where we shouldn't. Not even after a night on the beer (that's the man, not me or the cat).
But I found the picture below on the internet and I fear this is how I'm going to end up - aggressive, friendless, toothless, badly-dressed (have already achieved that one) and living with my cats. Can't wait.