Forsgren: Speeding down the road to becoming crazy cat person

There’s an Instagram account I follow called “Cats on Amps”. It’s pretty much what it sounds likes: photos of cats sitting on guitar amplifiers. It concerns me how big a kick I get out “Cats on Amps”.

Now, nothing worries me about loving guitar gear. I think electric guitar is pretty much the coolest thing ever created by the hand of man. I even wrote a column about the awesomeness of electric guitars a few months back.

But the intensity of my affection for cats scares me a little, as does the amount of time I’ve come to spend with cats or looking at cat photos on the internet. This has led me to the inescapable conclusion that I’m streaking down the pathway that leads to crazy cat person-dom.

The term “crazy cat lady” conjures very particular imagery of a little old woman in a rocking chair, quilt draped across her legs with an army of feline companions surrounding her. I can see that same image, with myself in place of the old lady. It’s a pretty depressing image for a guy who has a lot of things he wants to do and sights he wants to see.

The crazy thing is I don’t even know why I’m on this road to crazy cat metamorphosis. I’m not what you’d call an animal lover. I don’t hate animals, they just don’t actively excite me. Cats, on the other hand … man, I just really like cats. I like how they are independent, yet can be extremely affectionate. I like how they lose it over catnip or the little red dot from a laser pointer. I like how they purr and I like how adorable little baby kittens are.

While my fate is not set and the crazy cat fever hasn’t hit full intensity, the symptoms are there. For instance, I spend multiple hours on most days looking at photos or videos of cats online. Instagram and Youtube really feed my cat frenzy. Worse still is the fact that I chuckle or make an audible “Awww” with just about every photo.

Then there’s the fact that I like other people’s cats. My sister has this little fluffy black kitty named Kisses. He has a curious habit of licking you continuously, and that gets annoying, but he’s still fun to cuddle. If I see a cat, I’m drawn to it, like iron filings to a magnet. I feel a driving need to pet it. I don’t feel that way about dogs and there are some adorable dogs out there. I can’t quite explain it.

I also sometimes feel a strong desire to collect cats. I feel the need to get a Siamese, a Maine Coon, and a Norwegian Forest cat. I have to collect them all. I need a complete set. It’s like when I collected “Star Wars” toys, only with more shedding and dirty litter boxes.

The scariest, most portentous symptom of my future as a crazy cat man, though, is the amount of sheer happiness I feel sitting watching T.V. with my cat Loki sitting on my chest, purring like a well-oiled lawnmower engine. It’s a little thing, but I get an unreal amount of joy out of it. It’s a warm, fuzzy joy, like what you feel sitting in front of a crackling fire with a mug of yummy hot cocoa.

Come to think of it, maybe becoming a crazy cat guy isn’t the worst fate that could befall me. Yeah, it sounds like a lonely existence, and I’d rather cuddle a beautiful woman in front of a fire than a cat. But feeling the joy that grips me as I watch “Cutthroat Kitchen” with my purring kitty Loki in my lap, I can honestly say that I could roll with that pretty easily.