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Go ahead and shade me for that headline. I needed something catchy.

There’s actually very little I have in common with Kim Kardashian. In fact, what I think is our shared fear of becoming cat ladies is probably not even a true common thread because as we discussed yesterday, ol’ girl has more men coming and going from her inner walls than a little bit, and let’s face it as long as she has that bootay on hand that’s not gonna change. Still, she’s trying to make us believe she’s a regular old Jane by telling People about her new white feline, Mercy: “I just hope I’m not turning into one of those cat ladies that’s Tweeting too many pictures of her pet!” I’m not going to lie, I secretly yelled “me too!” inside, but while Kim might be exaggerating, over this way, the cat lady struggle is real.

Here’s the thing. I had/have a mice situation. I’m not dirty. It’s a New York thing. My landlord doesn’t give a damn because, as I stated, New Yorkers feel like this type of situation is as much apart of living in the city as taking the Subway. Terminix keeps sending the same incompetent technician to my apartment, forcing me to ask him blatantly one day, ” do you think this is a game?” And frankly, I’m tired of going to bed keeping the TV, bedroom light, desk lamp, and kitchen light on all night long. Bottom line is I need a cat. But I don’t know if I’m ready.

For one thing, cat to me sounds like kid, and I know without a doubt I’m not ready for that in no kinda way. My co-workers reassured me that cats virtually take care of themselves and all I’ll have to do is empty their litter boxes on a daily basis and keep some Meow Mix and Fancy Feast on deck – oh, and make sure it doesn’t scratch my eyes out at night. My co-workers also reminded me that cats are sneaky little bastards and what you see is essentially what you get. There will be no training of the kitty. So while in my mind I might think we have an  agreement that I will feed and provide shelter fin exchange for it ripping apart any and everything it sees scurry across this floor, depending on the kitty’s personality it might be gung ho — or look at me like biznyeee please. And then I’m stuck with a cat and a mouse – neither of which I’m thrilled about.

But then there’s the bigger issue that I’m really not prepared to be a 27-year-old cat lady. That’s just what it is to me. Yes, I know it sounds silly but for some reason I feel like I’m sealing my single, no boyfriend, no husband, no kids, might end up on animal hoarders in 10 years fate by opening the gateway at this age. Like, where can I go from here? Naturally I would just have to get more and more and more cats, right? Isn’t this how it starts? Today it’s a kitten, tommorrow it’s a litter. Perhaps it’s the fact that part of me is also thinking, hmmm maybe caring for another living thing will take some of the edge off and I’ll become a kinder, more loving and patient person. But when I strip that thought down to it’s bare essence all I hear is 20-something cat lady who can’t wait to get home and cuddle up next to a pet that licks itself clean. I’m not about that life.

If you’re shaking your head at me, be real. How many people do you know with cats? I’ll wait. The truth is it’s just not the cool thing. Having a dog as a single woman – or man – is completely socially acceptable. In fact in New York, you’re almost weird if you don’t have one. But a woman of child-bearing years chilling at home stroking her kitty (the pet not the love below)? Nah son.

I’ve been mulling over this issue for a couple weeks now – the way I’d like my potential cat to mull the critters in my apartment — and I’ve actually even picked out my potential kitten thanks to a girl at work who wants me to go about this the humane way and not pick up a stray on the way home like I was thinking (kidding). The kitten I settled on is black and his name is Hakeem. That’s how I knew he was for me. But the moment I lightweight made peace with this potentially life-altering decision, I saw there’s about as much paperwork to adopt an unwanted kitten as there is a small child in China. And because Hakeem, whom I plan on nicknaming Radio Killa so he knows his purpose in life, is only two months old, I’m not allowed to purchase/adopt him unless I already have a cat or purchase/adopt another kitten so he has a playmate. See what I mean? This organization is purposely trying to turn me into a cat lady! One cat I may get a pass on. Two? I’m not doing it to myself. I don’t think.

Do any of you own cats? Did you worry about becoming a crazy cat lady? Am I tripping?

Brande Victorian is the news and operations editor for Follow her on twitter @Be_Vic.

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