Here kitty kitty

Went to a party at my fancy friends on Saturday night. They would vehemently deny living fancy lives but when someone treating you for a banged up knee recognizes you from the TV, well, there's a little bit of something more than normal happening there.

Anyhoo, along with seeing the parents of someone whose child is under the tutelage of a very important mentor of mine, chatting with someone who is a true moral crusader, and finally snagging a comfy spot right in front of the fondue pot, I noticed an interesting undercurrent amongst the gathered group. And that undercurrent was one of cat fancyin'.

I became friends with the wife of the couple hosting this party when we both worked at a New England publication; she saw my stuffed George and Martha sitting on my keyboard and decided we should hang out. We soon discovered we shared a bordering-on-the-ridiculous love for our kitties and it pleased me to see that you can in fact make it very, very far in this world and still walk around a Saturday night fondue party with someone else's fuzzy kitty in your arms, snuggling him and loving him. These people were devoid of all worry that they might look silly. They didn't care about looking silly. They just fancy cats.