Why I Have 11 Cats...

Trauma.  But I will get to that in a minute...

Yes, I have 11 of them.  And you can call it hording if you want.  I really don’t care what you call it anymore, I have made my peace with it and now am writing this blog to claim it as mine.

I learned early in this life that people inflict their most wounded parts upon you in many different forms and ways. And when you are young and vulnerable, there is little to nothing you can do to protect yourself...what this experience grew up in me was an inability to not protect vulnerable beings that come in my path.

For the 11 little weirdos that share my life, I want you to know that I didn’t go out and acquire any of them.  Not a single one.  All of them found their way to me. Two of them on their very first day of life.  Four of them on their 10th day of life.  And the others came to me in various forms of distress, loss, trauma and pain.  All of them needed a soft place to land and for whatever reason, the universe though my home would be a good place for that landing.

My own traumatic childhood coupled with an unchecked (it is now checked) codependency created the perfect storm for the landing of said cats.  They were all kittens when they came.  All displaced, unloved, in peril and some close to death, some multiple times. 

I have spent a small fortune getting them healthy and well.  And there was never another option for me.  I couldn’t have done it any other way. You say, "just say no!" And I say, "I just can't!" Because I can't.

I have taken in my fair share of children, wayward and lost friends and men along the way as well.  But animals, unlike people, are just much easier for me to get behind.  Don’t get me wrong, I love people too but I have learned that you living with me just isn’t something I can do on a long term basis.  The pets are another story. I have built my life around theirs with their comfort and idiosyncrasies in mind.  You might call that stupid, idiotic, codependent and I would allow that for you to think and feel.

But I guess what I am trying to get across here is that for me, there was never another choice.  I could not leave the responsibility to someone else.  Because, in my experience, there isn’t someone else...I can’t rely upon someone else to save them, help them or love them anymore than I could rely upon someone else to save me.  God put them in my life, squarely in my path, and for me there wasn’t another choice.  The last four I had homes for but I just loved them too much after all the near death experiences and my life broken down into two hour segments.

Maybe the whole cat thing is just selfish.  But I don’t see it that way.  I keep the little fuckers because I love them and want them in my life.  And I have come to trust the powers that be to show me by placing these tiny beings in my life when I am being called up for service.  I will fully admit to being over-served in the cat capacity. No question there.  But I am grateful for each and every one of them and they bring way more joy to my life than I likely do to theirs. It is a privilege of well loved cats to think that they are entitled to everything they receive and I am honored to supply.

Yes, my life would be easier and less exciting without them.  But I do not have the ability to say no when presented with a half dead kitten.  I know I could “save” them and then find them new homes, but I can’t let go after all that intensive, death defying insanity.  I am hooked.

It has taken me a long time to see that my own trauma, that of being young and vulnerable, in need of protection and care, has created this need to save others.  For a long time, I didn’t see that my intentional rescue of men that were totally capable of saving themselves but were choosing not to was a maladaptive coping strategy.  But I know now that my attempted rescue of all these other beings was just practice and an outgrowth of the work I needed to do to save myself.

It has taken my life time to arrive at this place where I can honestly say, I no longer need saving.  I finally figured it out.  I have become a safe person in my own life, one who is no longer content ruining it with bad relationships, malignant narcissist and con men.  I finally healed that part of me that thought it was my responsibility and duty to save another person.  My only salvation obligations is to myself, to those who seek recovery and now, apparently wayward, homeless cats.

I have no plans to get any more cats.  But I also didn’t plan to get any of the ones I have now.  None of them were my idea.  In fact, the only pets I have that were my doing are my chickens and one cat.  The dog - my daughter’s idea.  Six of the cats were all her and two others were a derivative of one of the cats she brought home.  So maybe she has some of the same need I do, or maybe she has just been raised in a household, where animals are concerned, there is an inability to say no.

My own trauma created a hard grooved pattern for years of me ignoring my own traumatic issues in favor of attempting to save others.  It has only been through this historic pattern of conduct that I was finally able to see that what I was really trying to do was save myself.  And now that I feel “saved” and safe in my own life, me becoming the safe person for myself that I always needed but was too fucked up to actually be, perhaps maybe all my cat rescuing will cease...I guess time will tell.

But I know that seeing a creature in need and vulnerable is something that is impossible for me to say no to, so I do my best to stay off the Facebook pages of animal rescues and I do not go to the animal shelter, ever.  Part of living a humble life is to know where you are broken beyond repair...it is the old saying, “if you hang around the barber shop long enough, you will get a haircut...”  Except for me, it is more, “if you go to the shelter, you will bring home another cat, or dog, or rabbit, chicken, goat, alpaca, or who the fuck knows...”

As much healing as I have provided the animals in my life, they have provided me more.  They give me the love that I need without strings or conditions.  The comfortable intimacy that has formed between us is so much easier for me than with humans.  I am able to be all love with no urgent need to protect myself from harm, distress and injury. I know the love flows freely without hidden motive or agenda. I KNOW they want food, treats and petting. They are quite upfront about it and I need that base level of honesty in my life, apparently.

I have worked hard in my life to rid myself of those people who would rather use me, hurt me, or neglect me.  And I have only been able to do so with, apparently, the addition of many fucking cats. They providing me with the love and understanding that I have found so very hard to receive from humans.

So my answer now to the oft asked question, “why the fuck do you have so many fucking cats?” Is simply, “trauma”. And I will leave you to sort that out for yourself.

Run if you like.  I will be over here soaking up the purrs, the love and the stability they provide in my life and the freedom they provide me to not seek all that from a man, a friend or a lover.  I am getting my needs met at home, finally!

Again, still...