I've always known that cats are my spirit animal.
They're curious and intelligent, sly yet sweet and beneath their adorable, furry facade they can pack a mean bite. Yet, since adopting my fur baby, Nala, last year, I've come to discover this connection is even stronger than I ever imagined.
How so? Cats are literally just drunk all the time. They do whatever they want, when they want - and they don't care what anybody thinks. They're basically your crotchety great-aunt that throws back five glasses of wine at lunch and tries to steal food from a buffet.
And once Nala decides to stop lounging on my keyboard, you'll learn what exactly I mean through a series of her most hilarious photographs.
They love to sleep, and will settle down to nap literally anywhere.
Really, Nala? My neck is the comfiest place you could find?
They make the simplest tasks impossibly difficult.
Does it make me a horrible cat mother if I first took several photos and videos before saving Nala from the evil tissue box?
Motor skills are nonexistent.
No, Nala, that is not how you window.
Reading is pretty much impossible.
If Harry Potter and Beyonce can't retain your attention, all hope is lost.
Their photos end up looking a lot less cute than they imagined.
Major derp alert.
They hate healthy food.
Nala is not amused with this banana. Where are the nachos?
They lose all sense of modesty.
Did I fail in raising my kitten if I can't get her to ever close her legs?