Pawrenting
How I Became a Cat Dad as a Dog Person
I never saw it coming
Pandemic year two was ending and the winter holidays were approaching. Michaela and I had been discussing expanding our family, but I always thought we would get a dog.
Normally, we go down the bayou to visit my family in South Louisiana for Thanksgiving and spend Christmas with her family either in New Orleans or Georgia. Last year was different.
We were emotionally exhausted after spending over a month in Georgia for Ida hurrication and then going back about a month later for her aunt’s homegoing ceremony.
Pandemic precautions were also still in effect and we decided not to take any more long-distance trips. My parents are only about an hour’s drive away, so we went there for Christmas.
After everything we had been through in the past year, I never imagined things were only just about to get interesting.
My sister-in-law had been feeding the neighborhood cats, and sometimes a-holes would actually drop off their unwanted cats at her doorstep knowing she would feed them. (We say these cats are degraded in Cajun French).
It got to be pretty overwhelming at one point with 5 cats outdoors (including 2 sick) and 1 cat indoors, along with 2 dogs. (There used to be 3 dogs, but one recently crossed the rainbow bridge).
Michaela loves these cats for some reason. She’s always wanting to take one or two home with us whenever we visit. My answer is always no — we don’t have space for any pets right now. And we definitely can’t deal with any vet bills right now.
Besides, whenever we do get a pet, we’re going to get a dog. I want a German Shepherd, but I’m willing to compromise and get a (standard-sized) poodle since Michaela says they’re just as smart and don’t shed.
I had no idea that cats are not only smart but manipulative as hell.
As usual, Michaela went across the street to visit my sister-in-law while my brother and I waited for the food to be ready at the house we grew up in. My parents’ two dogs, Sam and Mugsy, fought for attention, and meanwhile, a nosy cat snooped around outside, eavesdropping, unbeknownst to us.
Meanwhile, one of the sick kittens had died and my sister-in-law was feeling really overwhelmed. She asked Michaela for advice getting help for the other sick ones, and naturally, Michaela said maybe we could take them to the city where there were likely to be more free clinics and shelters. I said no.
Later on, while we were sitting outside taking a break from eating, the cat came right up to me and pawed at my pants and shoes. I didn’t want to hurt it but I also didn’t want it climbing up my leg with those untamed claws.
The cat followed us inside the house when we back in for seconds (or thirds or fourths). I was enjoying another bowl of gumbo when that damn cat jumped right up on my lap!
Michaela said he wanted me to pet him and so I did.
Unbeknownst to me, when Michaela saw the cat’s affection for me, she started plotting with my sister-in-law behind my back.
“Now’s the chance” is what she secretly plotted.
Apparently, when Michaela and sis went back across the street, they gathered up a bunch of supplies and packed them in the car!
When it was time to go, Michaela said that it was obvious that the cat wanted me to be his new daddy and that it would be cruel to just leave him after we bonded all afternoon and evening.
Completely caught off guard, I frantically listed all the reasons we couldn’t bring the cat home. But, as usual, Michaela had a strong rebuttal for every argument I put forth.
“We can’t bring him home today,” I said. “We don’t have any supplies.”
“Oh, yes, we do,” she said. “Raquel already gave us everything we need to get started.”
Before I could say anything, she kept going with her defense.
“We have food, litter, and even a box we can use until we get a litter box.”
“But we can’t have him loose in the car,” I protested.
“You’re right, we can’t have a feral cat loose in the car.”
I thought I was gaining ground.
“So I’m going to hold him in my lap. And you know they make car seats for cats, so we can get that once we get settled.”
“But you know we don’t have room for any animals,” I tried to reason with her.
“Cats don’t take up nearly as much space as dogs,” she argued. “They’re very neat and clean and mostly keep to themselves anyway. You won’t even know he’s there.”
She was relentless.
“Besides, we already have everything packed up in the car. And the cat is attached to you. Isn’t it nice to feel loved like that?”
I did feel something with the cat.
“You know, cats are great emotional support animals, just like dogs. But the good thing is, we won’t have to walk it and pick up its poo.”
“But who will clean the litter box?” I got her now, even though she tried to trap me with that lovie dovie crap.
“I will, of course! I’ll do everything. I’ll take him to the vet and pay the insurance and take care of all the food and treats and keeping the litter box clean.”
I couldn’t get a word in edgewise.
“All you have to do is love him. He sure loves you.”
She was holding the cat by now and came close so I could feel the cat’s breath on my cheek.
That darn cat was all up in my face but he was cute as hell. I could feel the vibrations of his purrs deep down in my soul. (Or maybe I had eaten too much)?
Damn.
I realized I wasn’t going to win this argument.
I didn’t know it, but we were bringing that cat home the moment he rubbed up against my leg. By the time he jumped up on my lap, the car was already loaded with his stuff.
I never stood a chance.
What I thought was Michaela’s defense was actually a strategic offense I never saw coming. She had been planning to adopt one of those rescues since they first started showing up at Raquel’s doorstep during covid.
And when I turned to my family for support, they were all on her side. My father, my brother, and even my own dear mother. Not a single one of them voted in my favor. I guess that’s why family members don’t serve on juries.
Michaela had won. Again. She should have been a lawyer.
The cat was terrified and clung to Michaela’s arms the whole way home. We both wondered aloud whether we were doing the right thing, taking this cat from his home.
My sis-in-law said he didn’t belong outside, that he was always trying to come inside but that she just couldn’t take on another indoor pet.
Michaela said he was much too tame to be feral, that he probably belonged to someone and had been abandoned.
So we decided that we would do our best to nurture him and help him to feel comfortable in his new home but that we would take him to visit his foster family down the bayou as often as possible.
The first few days seemed to be rather traumatic for the cat. He didn’t eat, drink, pee, or poo for three days. If he wasn’t being held, he was hiding.
Those were the longest 72 hours ever because we were worried sick the entire time. We seriously questioned our judgment in moving him from the peaceful bayou to the noisy city.
We literally celebrated when we heard him using the litter box. Michaela felt the need to document his first poo in his new home. Her enthusiasm did not go unnoticed because The Cat appointed her as Court Photographer when he became King.
To be fair, Michaela held up to her end of the bargain completely. She got him to the vet for vaccines, tests, dental cleaning, parasite preventive, and other recommended supplies.
Her mom, excited to finally enter some semblance of grandparenthood, sent us a car carrier, shoulder sling, cat-themed food and water bowls, and some fun toys.
Everything was pink because the veterinarian initially told us he was a girl. Michaela wanted gender-neutral colors, but grandma couldn’t help herself.
Michaela researched cat leashes extensively and then bought the first one she could find because the pet stores nearby mainly catered to dogs. I agreed with her that he should get as much outdoor time as possible while transitioning to housecat life.
The cat ended up with a red collar, blue harness and leash, and pink carrier. The would-be king’s coffers were empty, so we had to make do as first-time pawrents.
Fast forward — we’ve now had the cat for almost a year, and he’s doing great! His gotcha day is Christmas Day, which is how he got the name Christmas.
I generally don’t look forward to the holidays, but how can I not love Christmas?
Remember when I said that cats are smart and also manipulative as hell?
Well, as it turns out, Michaela wasn’t the only one plotting to bring the cat home that fateful Christmas Day. The cat also had a plan, and I was merely a pawn for him to capture the Queen.
Michaela says that’s ridiculous — that he’s very smart, of course, but that he isn’t going out of his way to piss me off.
But I’m telling you, that cat is always up to something. And when he does something he knows he’s not supposed to, he looks right at me like, “what you gonna do.”
But Michaela won’t hear any of it. That’s her baby, and he’s perfect. According to her.
I know what’s up, though.
I am Jamie, son of Ronald, and I’m grateful for the honor to serve as Paw and Protector to the One True King, Christmas, The Cat.
I bend the knee.
