My life with cats and a kid

I Didn’t Get The Memo That Crazy Cat Ladies Have to Be Childless

As usual, I did things backwards

Photo of Trixie by author Carol Lennox. LPC, M.Ed. from owner’s collection. She’s ready for anything, even ruling the world.

I became a crazy cat lady only AFTER I had my son. Nobody from the political party that hates women told me in time. Sorry, not sorry.

I did have one cat before I had my son, but not on purpose. My Main Coon cat, Max, was “gifted” to me when he was eight weeks old.

Have you ever had an eight-week-old kitten? If you have, you probably don’t want another one of those maniacs for a long, long time. I sure didn’t.

His favorite toy was a hanging basket chair downstairs in my loft apartment. He jumped and swung and climbed and banged it into the wall repeatedly. Only in the middle of the night, however, forcing me to either throw a pillow at the little orange wild man, or run downstairs to grab him and force him to sleep with me by holding him down until he got tired of squirming and fell asleep. At all other times he ignored the damned chair.

In my defense, as a current crazy cat lady who isn’t childless, I treated Max as if he were a dog. What did I know? I’d only had dogs before Max. As a result, he came when I called him, and stopped chewing on cords and digging in plants when I smacked him. Very un catlike…