Ailurophile- a cat lover
Ex:
The portrait of an ailurophile, as painted by someone who does not enjoy the company of cats:
Let’s start with their appearance. Female ailurophiles are easier to pinpoint than their male counterparts. The typical cat lady is a skinny, witchlike woman with round frame reading glasses and a long, Pilgrimy dress. A pre-ailurophile young woman may be seen wearing a choker and black Doc Martens. A cat loving man has a bookish look about him and is often skittish and driven by erratic ADHD thoughts and behaviors. A pre-ailurophile young man is really good at dodging in dodgeball, but can’t throw the ball for shit.
An ailurophile’s apartment always takes the same general shape and composition. There are soft toy mice scattered on the cat-piss scented carpet. In the living room sits the remains of a wicker chair which has been shredded into a tall stack of hay or some sort of nest for a Cenozoic terror bird. Inside the pantry are an assortment of canned tuna products. Tuna and salmon. Flaked tuna in gravy. Chicken breast and tuna in piss. Chicken liver and shrimp in piss. Tuna in the back sweat of an Indian Uber driver. And the worst part is, you have no idea which cans are for the cat and which cans are for the owner. In the corner, underneath the Panic! At the Disco poster is a multi-tiered pagoda structure that is either for the cat or for role playing with the Imaginext Samurai. Yarn abounds, but there are no homemade scarves in sight. Inside the bathroom sits a sand box shaped like the deserted island with one palm tree that you see in the cartoons. The two guys stuck on this particular deserted island happen to look a lot like pieces of poo.