Secret Cat Saddies
My grandpa and his second wife had a cat I used to call Sam-Catty. I’d say “get that Sam-Catty away from me!”. This makes sense to me now as I think about my only exposure to cats being my other grandparents’ cats named Cinder and Skeeter. I don’t think Skeeter was born mean but years of my father’s torture hardened her into a skittish, pissing, scratch-first, hiss-always creature. I’ll spare you the details of the torture but this is how I know my dad was truly a narcissist to his core and possibly even a sociopath. I’m not a doctor but I am pretty versed in recognizing a bad apple.
Back to the cats. Poor Sam-Catty probably wasn’t mean but I was terrified. This led me down a path of cat aversion. I was 41 when I moved into a house with a cat I could stand. Pippin stole my heart with her big green eyes and her round tiny face. She’d barely make a sound and then she was there, under your feet, the whole 9 lbs. I can’t imagine a more perfect 9 lbs in the whole world. Her purrs and light-footed walks over my chest would lightly stir me awake. She’d sometimes quietly be chirping at the migrating birds outside our Detroit window overlooking Canada.
I’d met cats before and even periodically stayed with them and their owners but I get it now. It’s a VIP experience, you gotta earn it. I was not prepared for once the love was finally mine. All the cliches come to mind but mostly - cat lady. I realize it’s not an insult but a statement of pride. I used to feel left out and then quickly dismiss cat people. I feel like I’ve just been leveled up. Somehow, my allergies have diminished and I’m free from the chains of having to lie about loving these sweet creatures.
The last few days have been particularly difficult without Pippin. She’s gone to live with Ari, who has missed her terribly. I have been cleaning up tiny claws that have been shed under the couch, cleaning up toys under the bed, finding her hair in little corners, storing away her cat trees for some reason and trying to responsibly deal with all the leftover food and litter she didn’t use. Unpacking from a trip is hard for me, it’s really hard to deal with the sadness and clear out old things. Ari is nice to send me daily photos of her. It makes me happy to know she’s well. To think that 9 lbs holds the key to my sanity.