That’s how they get you, these… cats. Devils more like it. It’s all purring and mewing, and then Bam! one of them hits you with a head nudge. By then, it’s all over. Soon it’s the expensive food, and the water filters, and the fancy kitty litter. Before you know it, they are asking if their brother can crash on the couch. You know, just a for a few weeks. He’s got an idea, and it’s gonna be huge, like Facebook huge, but he just needs a little bit to get him off the ground. A year later you are laying in bed at 4 AM looking back on the choices you’ve made, wondering how it ever got to this point, and you feel a sharp pain in your gut. It’s one of those furry devils come to ask for more food, or to warn you about the spider it thinks it saw in the hallway, or to tell you that the vase above the TV is haunted. It doesn’t matter. You love them, anyway. You’re all theirs now. Under their spell. They call it love, but it’s spelled t-o-x-o-p-l-a-s-m-o-s-i-s.

Be a tiny bit more work but generally it’s a plus.