My past few posts were slightly heavy. So lets talk about cats. To be perfectly honest, I haven’t always loved cats. I didn’t dislike them, I just didn’t understand them. I have always had pet rats, and I love love love love rats. The apartment I was living in would most likely never allow me to have rats however (though I did sneak two in for three years.) My therapist recommended that I get a therapy animal. I really like big dogs, but don’t have the room in an apartment. The next best option was a rat, but getting my landlord to be okay with this would be hell. Also, older rats usually require vet care, and because they are exotic pets, the cost of the vet visits will put you in debt. So I rescued a cat.
Why did I need a therapy animal? Well, I’ve a long history of depression and a serious amount of anxiety. I needed something to take care of that wouldn’t create more stress but instead I ended up with a cat that takes care of me.
That’s her default. She’s gotta follow me into the bathroom and give me this look. Notice, the faucet is on a slow drip because I have to turn it on while I’m in there so she can get a drink of water. Spoiled, right?
I didn’t think that a cat would actually be able to help me with my depression or anxiety but it didn’t take long for me to realize that it might have been a partial cure all along. Having moved into my dad’s house, I now have three cats to help me deal with my anxiety and depression.
Meet Frisco (black and white) and Jack Jack (orange and white)
I came to love these boys just as much as I love my Cleo, and I have found that it’s actually pretty hard to be depressed with three fuzz butts running around and demanding love at every moment. Frisco is always asking for reassurance, but he’s also the funniest of the three. Notice how he sleeps.
And he’s always up to cuddle.
But Cleo and Jack have their moments too.
Maybe you can see how they might help, but I’ll give you some examples.
In the morning, when I’m depressed, Cleo wakes me up. She will not let me sleep past 8am and her method of waking me is far from stressful. She will begin purring, usually kneading my belly or butt and when I ignore that she starts rubbing her face on my face, purring all the way. If I proceed to ignore, she drools. On my face. I really can’t be mad though. When all else fails, she flops herself down onto my face and lays there, purring, trying to suffocate me with love. This is a great help to me actually, I tend to sleep all day if I can. I love my bed, but it’s not because it’s warm and cozy, it’s because that’s where nothing will bother me. I’m just me, and that’s all. Nothing else to worry about. Just my pillow. People think I’m sleeping, I won’t be bothered. And dreams are a great escape from what is actually bothering me. I love to sleep. (And having PCOS I actually have the lack of energy needed to sleep my life away. One perk of PCOS?)
The cats are also pretty amazing at sensing anxiety. I’ve cried, at least one comes running. I’m ready to put my fist through a wall, they come running. I’m about to have a panic attack because I have to spend my last dollar and they all come running to cuddle with my self. And not just that, they help my boyfriend with his anxiety too, and Jack Jack has taken quite the liking to him.
Do I recommend a therapy animal if you have any form of anxiety or depression? Yes. Do I recommend a cat? Yes.
Until one has loved an animal a part of one’s soul remains unawakened – Anatole France
Thanks for tuning in so I can show you my cats (that’s the main point of this post).