But, y'know, THINGS kept getting in the way. Dany and I met in the Drama Critics Circle, and while I don't review all that much anymore, she still does, so she'll be at the theatre on weekends -- and that's generally the only time I've got available. (And, lately, she's been off learning to teach yoga.)
But we finally managed to make a reservation for the Cat Cafe -- Crumbs and Whiskers -- for this morning.
I read their waiver in advance. It's a standard form. You acknowledge that you know you're risking injury or death or ....
Death??!!
It's sitting on the floor, PLAYING WITH KITTENS, not skydiving. It's the safest thing ever. It's little balls of fluff!
And then, this morning, before I go, I decide it's time to clip Jasmine's claws, and she just slides one of her sharp little nails right into the flesh of my finger, nice and deep. (Probably with malice aforethought.) I get a band-aid, we have a Very Serious Conversation about Not Clawing Mommy and I rethink just how safe rolling on the floor with 25 kittens actually is.
Driving to the Cat Cafe, I think I'm going to be a little late -- I'm actually going to get there just about on time, but they have no damn parking, so I know I'll be driving up and down side streets looking for a free spot, and my parking karma is generally pretty shitty. So I call Dany and give her my food order in advance. (The Cat Cafe takes all your food and drink orders at the beginning, so if you want the "cafe" part of the experience, you've got to get there on time.)
I get there and, sure enough, parking karma is legit shitty, and I'm driving around for another 7 minutes or so, until a spot appears a few blocks from the cafe. I pull in and race-walk over to the cafe, having to stop while some Damn Tourists stop for photos in front of some wall on the list of "Best Instagram Spots in L.A." (and I idly wonder how many of these folks are stealing parking spots from people who have actual business to conduct nearby. Like, at the cat cafe.)
I get in the door and say, "throw me a waiver and cover me in kittens!"
It doesn't EXACTLY work that way. They first need someone to tell me the rules of the place (no picking up cats, no feeding cats people food, no waking sleeping cats, and no stealing cats - but adopting is encouraged). Dany is already there, petting a kitty.
It's basically a single room, scattered with cat baskets, big soft poufs to sit on, cat food stations, cat perches, cat toys, and cats. I'm told there are about 28 of them.
I am not, however, covered with cats, due to the somewhat annoying presence of Other Human Beings. I ask the helpful staff member who replies that they let about 18 people in at any given time. The helpful staff member groks my unspoken question (to wit: then why is there no cat on me RIGHT NOW?), picks up a cat from someplace (THEY are alllowed to pick them up) and plops said cat in my presence. This repeats a few times -- every time I am catless, she brings one over.
Everyone is following the rules, but I am a bit bothered by the failure to follow what I believe is common courtesy. I mean, I don't go for a cat when someone else is petting and/or interacting with said cat, but some of the other guests don't seem to care about that, and try to, y'know, steal a cat away from me with a sparkly toy or by petting the other end.
(I remain polite, though. It's very hard to seethe when you're petting a cat.)
Dany doesn't like being photographed (like, at all) so she turned them down when they walked around with a Polaroid taking snaps. I took mine, though.
The beverages and foods (ordered from a restaurant nearby -- there's Health Code rules that prevent the place full o' cats from actually preparing food) finally arrive -- at which point 28 kittens start trying to make 18 humans break Rule #2. Heck, the kitty with Dany wanted to eat the cardboard box her croissant came in.
While we were there, I made a very important discovery. Jasmine herself is a solo cat -- an alpha with no betas -- but, someday, I will find myself "between cats," and needing of a new feline companion. And, given the fur situation (to wit: on everything I own, all the time), I was thinking my next cat would be a short-hair.
But, OMG, the long-hairs are sooooo much softer! Petting them right next to each other made that choice pretty clear. The super-duper softness you get from petting a long-haired kitty is more than compensation for the pain of when they jam their widdle claws in your finger. (Affectionately.)
(Ow.)
