Two thirds of the research triangle.

Don't male cat owners carry with them the stigma of "dangerous" or "mysterious"? Not the good kind, like what the women of "Sex and the City" are searching for. This is the creepy kind of dangerous we teach our kids about strangers. In fact, when I have kids and we are talking about "stranger danger", the male cat owner will be number one on my child's "creep radar".

We all know a "SCP" (Scary Cat Person). This is the little old lady who lives at the end of a cul-de-sac, whose only purpose on this earth is to care for the constant stream of cats entering and exiting her dilapidated shack. But there are other SCPs who are much more subversive in hiding their obsession. I have, on multiple occasions, been surprised by a seemingly sane coworker suddenly shows the symptoms of "cat scratch fever". You don't realize their ailment until you are alone in their office. It is only there that you see that every personal item contains a reference to a feline. The "Cat-A-Day" calendar, the handmade tissue box cozy in the shape of a cat (you know who you are!), and of course the personal pictures! It is in these pictures that you really see the glint of madness. I have seen co-worker's cats dressed up for Halloween, or opening gifts at the holidays. I feel bad for these animals because there is no dignity in a life where you are in danger of being dressed up in a bumble bee costume at any given time. I don't claim to know the laws of the universe, but this behavior must break a few.

So why, Ian, if you are so put off by these people did you join their ranks? A good question, and I have a story. You see, I wanted a dog. I lived in North Carolina for a time. While I was there I rented the downstairs of a duplex. This was the first time in my adult life I had lived in a house and not an apartment. My good friends lived upstairs and were cat owners. We had a big back yard that would have been perfect for a dog. I had the best dog ever growing up and I have always intended to be a dog owner.

Being intoxicated by living in a house, I deluded myself to thinking I would always be in a house and that it was time for a dog. I began rationalizing why I needed a dog. They are great companions! Security for the home! (The biggie) Women love dogs and their owners! So I began the hunt. However, the responsibility associated with a dog began to hit me: I had every intention of moving back to New England where I would most likely be renting an apartment. Every chance I got, I flew home to visit my family and boarding a dog would be costly. I worked long hours so it would be alone a lot. So I ultimately made the right decision: No mortgage, no dog.

However, as you get to know me you realize, I can't turn off the rationalizations; Once I set my mind that I want something, I usually get it. My upstairs neighbors (cat people) knew this about me and started replacing the dog in the scenario with a cat. I was genuinely resistant at first.
"I don't like cats", I explained.
They countered with, "No you like dogs better, but that ain't happenin'". Valid point.
"My sister is allergic," I pointed out.
"She is 900 miles away." Damn them!

This went on for a while until one Saturday they asked if I was up to a trip to Target. I accepted and the next thing I know we are parked in front of Petco.
"Do you need supplies for your cats?" I asked.
"No, this trip is for you." Sure enough, set up outside the store was the Cat Adoption Team (a non-profit organization whose membership contained hundreds of specially trained SCP who will stop at nothing to get these cats into a home and spread their obsession!)

I steeled myself and headed toward the cages. My mantra was, "I want a dog". I began to begrudgingly look in the cages. To be honest, the resistance was easy at first. Sure they were cute and your heart went out to the condition of their lives, but there weren't dogs, you know. I remember "picking" out my dog when I was five or six. Winnie (her name) picked me. These cats could care less.

I had just started to feel that I had successfully foiled their attempt, when my neighbor handed me this little ball of fur. I held it close to my chest and it looked at me and started to purr. It then climbed towards my chin and nuzzled it. I held it for a long time and I was sold.

This is where I was railroaded. I barely had said, I'll take it when the female half of my neighbor's household (a SCP in training) and the C.A.T. rep. said I have to have two. I swear it was rehearsed.
"With your long work days, he needs company", my neighbor said.
"He is part of a litter, he has a brother and two sisters. You should take one of them", the C.A.T. lady added.

So I looked into the cage and saw his brother cowering in the corner. Apparently the two sisters beat on the brothers relentlessly. They had to be double his size and although they told me all cats came neutered by a vet, I had a feeling these two had something to do with the operation. So once I had slipped down the slope, agreeing to two was easy.

Once I made the verbal commitment, the C.A.T. lady whole demeanor changed. "You do realize that cats live an average of sixteen years?"

"Um, ok," I said, confused.

"Are you up to that kind of commitment?"
At this point every woman who appeared to be single, turned to hear my response. I swear now I know the pressure a surgeon feels.
"Yes," I squeaked out, timidly.
"Then sign this form and know that we will be checking in on you," indicating the half dozen volunteers dressed in T-shirts with pictures of what I assume are their individual cats ironed-on. To this day, 800 miles away in Ma., I swear I see that women or one of her cohorts out of the corner of my eye. It is chilling.

So I have cats, begrudgingly. They are cool and thrive on affection, very dog like. Most importantly they are mine and that is cool, you know? There names are Raleigh and Durham, in honor of my five year "tour de South". And I swear that other than they live in my apartment, there is no cat paraphernalia that would categorize me as a SCP (As far as you know ;) )

Some interesting cat links:
Ask Jeeves Answer - what do you call a group of cats?: "A group of cats is called a pounce ."

I wrote this story after reading about "The Bear"