Each night, while working the night shift at Hot Topic, my wife and I discuss our idea to open our own store for cats called Pspspspsps. This is our grand dream for the future, and we have been workshopping this concept for many decades. The hook is that the store is not really for the cats themselves, because I know that they would never come to our store, despite its very enticing and attention-grabbing name. No, I know that upon hearing the name of our store spoken out loud to them in a breathy, wisping manner, the cats would almost certainly sniff at the ground or flick their tails in the air or begin licking their lower stomachs in boredom. I am well aware of this. But that’s why the store is not for them, I say to my wife, thrusting my index finger at her with great excitement. The store is for their owners. They are the ones who will be enticed. They are the ones who will travel great distances to browse our vast inventory of towers and tunnels and condos and scratching posts. They are the ones who will trot through our doors with eagerness and curiosity when the sound of our store’s name echoes in their ears.
