Rediscovering the Joys of Feline Companionship

Adopting a cat has reminded me of why they have always been such an important part of my life.

I had a rough start to 2021. While I was still reeling from the death of my grandmother just before Christmas, my cat, Beast, was diagnosed with kidney disease and, as January drew to a close, I had to say goodbye. It was a wrenching moment, and one of the most devastating decisions I’ve ever had to make. Beast was one of those cats who was, put simply, a force of nature, as exasperating as she was adorable. She was, it’s no exaggeration to say, both the best and the worst cat I’ve ever shared my life with.

For the next two years I would periodically feel the urge to open my home and my heart again to a feline companion. Each time, though, I drew back. I just wasn’t ready to take that plunge, wasn’t ready to render myself emotionally vulnerable in the way that having an animal companion in your life always requires. After all, no matter how much you might love your furry friend, the truth is that animal companionship is always shadowed by an awareness of a sort of tragic temporality. Their lives are, by their nature, much shorter than ours.

Fortunately for me, my partner has for some time been urging me to get a cat, both because he wanted one and because he thought it would be good for me. As luck would have it my parents happened to come into possession of a lovely little kitten and, after several months, we finally brought him home. At first, he was incredibly shy; it took him three days to even come out from under the bed and eat something. It took him even longer to finally warm up to us and let us touch him. Once he did, however, it wasn’t long before he started weaving himself into our daily routines, in that way that animal companions always do. 

When you have an animal companion, your entire day starts to reorient itself around their needs. If you’ve ever had a cat, you’ll know that they’re not shy about telling you when it’s time to eat (even if their food bowl still has food in it, they will let you know if there’s not enough of it). You have to change their litter, and you have to make sure that they have all of the other necessities they require to stay happy and healthy. Yes, some of it is not particularly pleasant, and some of it’s a nuisance, but you do it because you love them. What’s more, you find a peculiar satisfaction in doing so, as these actions, routine as they are, build a beautiful sort of intimacy with your animal companion, binding you both together in ways both large and small. 

Just as importantly, however, your day is also changed by their very presence in your life. These days, I would be totally lost if I didn’t have Tigger sleeping on the back of my armchair (his favorite perch during the day) while I’m pecking away at the keyboard, just as I’d be lost if I didn’t have him being a pest in the morning. I might want to wring his neck when he’s scratching on my chair, but I also love petting him while he’s sleeping, being rewarded with a chirp and the calming sound, and feel, of his purr. If you’ve ever had a cat purring on your lap, you know that there are few things more calming. 

Since Tiggy first opened up to us, I’ve found my ever-present anxiety starting to release its hold on me. If I feel myself starting to spiral into one of my periodic bouts of fixation, I turn to my feline companion and, somehow, it all seems more manageable. There’s something about the sparkle in his gold-green eyes, something about the way that he bumps his head against mine, something about just his physical being, that brings calm along with it. He reminds me to get out of my own head and to think about something else for a while, and that’s a gift that is too precious for words.   

Don’t get me wrong. There are still moments when I’m made conscious of the fact that it’s very likely that I’m going to be around a lot longer than he is. Yet in that tragic sort of temporality there is also a blessing, in that this awareness allows me to cherish each moment with him, even when, as in the mornings, he’s being a total pain in the ass. And, strange though it might seem, having Tigger in my life has allowed me to remember and grieve for Beast in a way that I didn’t even when the loss of her was still fresh and recent. Part of it, I suspect, is that he’s like her in some ways (like her, he loves to scratch on things when I’m not paying attention to it). However, it’s also the case that Beast’s death, coming so soon after my grandmother’s, was just too much for me to really grapple with at the time. Having Tiggy in my life has allowed me to grapple with her loss in new and, frankly, cathartic ways, and for that I’m truly grateful. 

As I write this, he’s currently making a pest of himself at my feet (he loves to attack my feet for some reason). I make baby noises at him and call him half a dozen ridiculous names, and all the while he looks up at me. I honestly have no idea whether he can understand a word I’m saying to him–probably not–and I also don’t know whether he knows just how much he has meant to me, how much brightness and joy he has brought into my life. Whether it’s watching him race through the house under the influence of the zoomies (a reminder of the exuberance of life if ever there was one) or gazing out the window at the birds (and making that strange little noise cats do), he makes every moment better, brighter, and more joyful.

I only hope I can make his life as wonderful as he’s already made mine.