I heart kitties. Always have.
Some people hate cats because old women like to throw them as weapons and when they're scared they sink their little needles right into your legs (the cats, though I suppose old women do too), but I grew up with them and adore them (again, the cats). Especially really adorable and *hopefully* less-than-average-intelligence kittens. The denser, the better. I like 'em stoopid.
Like when you have a little one with its tail stuck straight up because it's too small to bend the tail and it's so cute it's practically making you cry just by looking at it, and then you throw a lightweight blanket on top of it and you see the little lump jumping back and forth trying to get out (the internal voice that the kitty is using at this point I think would be "Bhat! Bhat! It's dark in here! Bhat!"). And then the furball just decides that she's too tired and too confused so she sits there still and not moving at all, like a parrot when you throw the sheet over the cage. Then you take the blanket off and she's so happy she starts jumping around again. It's not abuse if they're too young to remember it right?
Oh man I remember this one time when I had a really small kitten and I put a paper towel on top of him and he couldn't get out from under it. A paper towel! And then there was this really slow moving paper towel inching across the kitchen floor. I must have been seven and it was the most joy I ever felt.
Okay, I'm clearly in a ridiculous mood today. Noted by how I just spent the last six minutes searching for kitten pictures on the internet. I belong in 1988 with a sweatshirt with a unicorn on it and a perm right now...