It's just true.
And I can prove it. What follows is a an actual transcript of a conversation I just had with my cat, Gary T. Cat.
The T stands for The.
NB: there may have been some marijuana involved in the evening and I may have just attempted to take some arty iPhone nudes in my yellow bathroom. I was planning to call the series of tit shots "bruised" but it felt like a contrived and derivative cultural appropriation (and hair looked bad) so I deleted them...
Context: every night Gary T. Cat requires snuggling. He's a slut for snuggles and you know what, so am I! I'll admit it. So every night Gary does his yelling and then hops up onto the bed and onto my chest where he purrs and grooms the top of my hand and gets an epic scratch until he's decided he's had enough and needs to go back to starring into dark corners.
Prologue: and tonight was no different re: snuggles, and why should it be...
Michelle: (during her nightly cat snuggle-a-thon) this is the best part of life.
CRAZY CAT LADY STATUS CONFIRMED.