love, cats

My cat is very fuzzy. And Evil. With the capital E. She has long hair of the texture of cashmere or chinchilla, pale calico coloring, and teal eyes. And she is despicably cruel. She is the Mary Sue of the cat world. I love her anyway. Or, rather, that's sort of why I love her, and all the things that I love.
If you're not going to love things for what they are, what's the point? Love's not easy and you may as well do it so you're loving the real thing and not something you're idealizing about the real thing.