My name is Jessica, I’m 31 years old and alone … with cats. Their names, more importantly, are Teva and Isabel. I put food on my family (insert maniacal George W. laugh here) by working as a copy editor at a newspaper in Boston.
Two out of three of us like: olives, crackers, spinach, brushing our hair, drinking from the sink, lasers, running, snoozing, stalking unsuspecting prey, people-watching, perfume, rubber bands, reusable shopping bags, the mailman, scotch tape, open windows, fish tanks, whiskers on kittens, treats, Mr. Jinx in “Meet the Parents,” the musical stylings of Cat Power and 50 percent of the movie “Cats & Dogs.” Also, Elton John’s “Honky Cat.”
You know how owners start to bear an uncanny resemblance to their pets, especially the really
creepy reclusive lesbian awesome ones? After nine years with my girls, that hasn’t happened yet. But seriously, it’s coming. Any day now. Oh, I forgot. We like email. You should email us. email@example.com