Crazy Cat Lady

I have had 2 memorable experiences with stray cats. The first was when Brian Setzer (from the 80s rockabilly band and, more famously, from The Brian Setzer Orchestra) sat behind me during a Cleveland performance of The Phantom of the Opera. The second is a current and continuing experience of my mother's love of the neighborhood homeless felines.
Stray cats have been prowling my neighborhood for as far back as I can remember. However, it wasn't until a little over a year ago that my mom started taking a particular liking to them. It began innocently enough--she would buy cheap cat food and set it outside for the hungry cats. As the news spread of this new food source that didn't require chasing or pouncing, cats from all around town came to feast underneath our deck. At first, my mom vowed to stop feeding them so she wouldn't attract anymore cats. But then winter came--the temperature dropped and my mom couldn't bear to leave the poor little kitties starving in the snow. So, she continued to feed them, and in the spring, their numbers multiplied.
The emotional attachment came when we started naming the cats. At first, the names were creative and made for entertainment purposes more than out of love. For instance, Squirrel was named so because I saw her sitting underneath the bird-feeder and, because of her grey fluffy coat, I mistook her for a squirrel. Gerard got his name because half his face was white, making him look like the Phantom of the Opera, who was played by Gerard Butler in the film adaptation. Other names included Inky (because of her black coat), Stinky (because of her mean demeanor), and Coco (because Chanel is a beloved designer, even in the cat world). Then, the names started to sound like potential Flavor of Love candidates, with Funky, Boots, and Little Stinker being the next generation. Later, the cat names became a lot less creative and a lot more descriptive. Now, there's B.O.C. (Big Orange Cat), Big Grey, Calico, and Cow Kitty (it apparently looks just like a cow).
During my summer in Vail, my mom called me with updates about the cats. I began to worry when she said that her goal for the summer was to pet one of the cats. My mind raced with the innumerous diseases these wild animals could carry and I pictured my mother's obituary reading: "Crazy cat lady dies of feline leukemia." However, my dad assured me that he had things under control.
He totally did NOT.
At the end of the summer, I got a call from my mother. She had a tone of sadness in her voice that made me realize right away that something was wrong. She told me that Bing* had died. My dad the enabler had helped her catch her favorite kitten with a net. They took the tiny creature to the vet, only to find out that it was so riddled with diseases that nothing could be done and it had to be put down. My mother felt terrible, thinking that it was her fault that Squirrel was missing one of her kittens. I really did feel bad for her (my mom, not Squirrel the cat). As weird as it is, my mom loves feeding those cats every morning and night, building them little houses out of laundry baskets and hay, and chasing other animals away from the cats' food. We all have our weird little obsessions. My mom's just happens to be stereotypical of old spinsters, which I guess is a stereotype that she is working on breaking.
Despite the upset with Bing, my mom still takes care of her cats. The neighbors complain that their children might catch diseases or that their dog is getting fat from snatching the cat food, but to them she simply says, "Well then keep your damn kids/dog out of my yard!"
After achieving her goal of petting a cat (and not dying), my mom has moved onto her new goal of getting the cats to come inside. Each day, Boots becomes braver and braver and gets further in our basement before scurrying out. My dad is concerned that it's only a matter of time before the cat sneaks in during the night to eat our brains. But I know that close to the surface, my dad is just as crazy about those cats as my mom is, because they make my mom happy.

*The name "Bing" came during my parents' "Friends" phase. During this, they'd watch 1 or 2 episodes of Friends a day. My dad got a little too involved in it and would occasionally call me to tell me the latest antics Chandler had gotten himself into, which, thanks to reruns on TBS, I was already familiar with. My parents have now switched to the sitcom "How I Met Your Mother," and a similar thing is happening. When I mentioned that I had to dress business casual for the upcoming career fair, my parents said, in unison, "Suit up!" and then told me that I am "such a Robin."

Face Page

Technology is not really the forte of my parents or most of their generation. Over Christmas break, my mom was thoroughly impressed by the concept of drag and drop, and my Aunt Susie asked me if I had a "Face Page." I think my favorite moment came when my dad asked my brother why he was looking at pictures of "floozies" on his computer. Turns out he was just looking at pictures of his friends on facebook, but my dad said, "Those pictures are too slutty to put on the internet!" My brother clarified for the rest of us that the girls were wearing conservative sweatshirts but my dad retorted with, "But they had these come hither stares!" The internet is too saucy for my dad.
My little brother, Alex, is a whiz with the internet and computers, mostly because he's 17. He recently got a facebook and we are now "friends," which was all fine and good until his every move on the site came up on my newsfeed. I don't want to know who my brother is tagging pictures of or what he is writing on people's walls. In one disturbing episode, I went on facebook only to be hit in the face with "Alex has commented on *Enter teenage girl's name here*'s photo." The comment itself was even displayed on the news feed and was a saucy "Wow ur so beutiful" (misspelling intentional). I immediately texted Alex, informing that he should change his privacy settings so he wouldn't have to subject me to his teenage love fest. Since then, I have been spared witnessing Alex's attempts at scoring honeys.