What My Cat Taught Me About Myself
On ego, companionship, and asking if my next action is loving
It has been a few years now since I moved in with my girlfriend and her cat. I brought my big, gregarious girl dog into her home with her itty-bitty boy cat.
Boy, was that a transition.
I came in like I owned the place, and the cat was there to deliver a very different message. He was the king of the coop, and being a bit of an alpha type myself, I had other ideas. We battled. I didn’t understand his behaviors, and he didn’t understand mine.
I was uptight and wouldn’t tolerate his eccentricities: where he ate, what dishes he drank out of, where he slept, what counters he walked on, and all the spaces he had claimed as his own. He, in turn, hated the space I took up, my militant new rules, and my disciplinary approach. He peed on my bed. He peed on my girlfriend’s bed. It was a full-scale revolt against me and my shenanigans.
He had also been an indoor-outdoor cat who liked bringing home lizards and critters. That was a non-starter for me, so he became an indoor-only cat. It took time, and eventually building him a catio helped ease the transition.
Sometimes, I would act out, get grumpy, and throw things like a child. Then I would catch myself and realize I was a 195-pound grown man beefing with a 10-pound cat, even if he did have the pride and heart of a lion.
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It took a long time for us to come to terms with each other. The peeing eventually stopped. He’s still a cat doing cat things, but we found a truce. Now, my lap is the favorite lap. I toss treats and hand out hours of petting and attention. I feed him and water him, though I still draw the line at cleaning the litter boxes.
Looking back, I see my old self clearly: uptight, anxious, bossy, and desperate for control. I refused to tolerate this tiny creature, and he simply reflected that energy right back at me. Turns out, we are a lot alike. We both just wanted to be loved, understood, and given an even playing field where we could share the home, the girl, the life, and the playtime.
He and I have come a long way. Although he isn’t blogging about what this relationship has taught him, we have an understanding. There is peace in the valley.
I realized my ego was running the show, and that lesson spilled over into my relationship with my dog, my girlfriend, and everyone else in my life. Being a control freak is no way to approach love and companionship. I used to get frustrated over every little thing he did, expecting a cat to stop being a cat and bow down to my big human demands.
Now, I pause before I get grumpy, yell, or act like a diva. I can see that behavior isn’t really me; it’s just the ego, the only-child syndrome, and the refusal to make room for someone else’s needs. When that bratty inner child pops up today, I can notice it without reacting. I can laugh at that part of myself, lean down, and pet my sweet little cat.
I think pets are here to teach us how to be patient, how to problem-solve, and how to stay awake to the complicated parts of being human. Their love is simple, and they are asking us to be simple, too.
It really isn’t that hard to pause instead of throwing a tantrum. Ask yourself: Is my next action loving? If not, why? Pet the cat. Smile. He only wants to connect with the good inside you.
Over the years, the house has grown quiet. I clean up the hairballs and pet him even when he’s interrupting me while I’m plucking away at my laptop. Don’t be the all-powerful human egomaniac. Be the kind, loving version of yourself that remembers we’re all going to die eventually, so we might as well have a good time while we’re here.
