After a guest spot on Laguna’s very own radio station, KX93.5 yesterday morning during which I educated listeners about our local cat sanctuary, the Blue Bell Foundation for Cats, I went to the Farmer’s Market to buy some fresh flowers. The vendor thanked me and cheerfully said, “Happy Mother’s Day!” I could have informed her that I don’t have any children, which I’ve done before in response to Mother’s Day well wishes from strangers. Rather, I smiled and said, “Thank you—you too!”
I chose cats over kids. It wasn’t a conscious decision; I just never had the kid calling when I was in my 20s, when most women want to have babies. It hit me when I was about 38 and with a boyfriend who didn’t want children. I had two cats at the time, Punkie and Frankie and reasoned that they satisfied my later-in-life calling to have babies.
Baby Frankie
That worked until we broke-up about four years later, leaving me single, in my early 40s and the yearning to have a baby came back. I entertained adoption…for about five minutes. A single woman working a paralegal job with long hours taking on a baby…I looked at Punkie and Frankie and thought, I have children. They were furry, had tails and said “meow” instead of “mommy” but they needed my love, attention and care; and I found great reward in providing all that to them. And in return, I received unconditional love, joy, and had a sense of duty that a mom of a human baby might have. I realized I was okay without kids. I had a full and rewarding life and I would use my caretaking “mommy” skills on cats and the kids in my life that weren’t mine.
I no longer feel compelled to clarify to strangers that I do not have children, because I do.
Happy Mother’s Day to moms of kids–and kids of a furry kind!
It’s almost been a year since Bobcat became a squatter in my home. Up until December, when he became sick with what appeared to be a nasty cold, he was just “the cat who was staying with me.” Then I had to step-up my cat lady responsibilities and take Bobcat to the vet. Up until then, I had been feeding Bobcat and letting him into the house when he pounded at the sliding glass door or when he appeared at the window in my loft late at night, sitting on the roof and leering at me with glowing eyes. That was it—food and shelter. I was not willing to accept him as mine—this neurotic wayward cat who unilaterally decided that my home was his home.
Bobcat patiently waited in the carrier while I completed the medical forms. In the exam room, he was shy with Dr. B, but compliant while he quietly tolerated being medically evaluated. Bobcat was diagnosed with an upper respiratory infection, but otherwise he was in very good shape. Dr. B gave Bobcat a shot of antibiotic and prescribed an antihistamine, which I would have to administer twice daily for several days. “That doesn’t come in a shot? Seriously?” I asked, dreading having to pop pills into squirmy Bobcat’s sharp-toothed mouth.
Bobcat shut his mouth and swallowed. Done. The pill went down effortlessly, with no cat cursing, no clawing, and no fuss.
After a few days of easy breezy medicating, Bobcat started bolting around the house again as though chasing imaginary prey. He was on the mend.![IMG_1693[3]](https://i0.wp.com/catladyinthecanyon.com/wp-content/uploads/2016/04/img_16933.jpg?resize=225%2C300&ssl=1)
And that is when my cat crew of two officially became a