Those that know me well know about my love for animals. And that I have a bipetual home, with a couple of dogs and more cats than any one person should ever have under one roof. (note--I will not be featured on Hoarders anytime soon thanks to pet hoarding, but I do have three cats too many)
Over the years, I have come to realize I slightly prefer my dogs to my cats, however this realization did not stop me from adopting the last cat I brought home five years ago.
Since I knew I was approaching crazy cat lady status, I vowed that I would only bring home a female orange tabby to join my menagerie, as that particular flavor of cat is not easy to find.
Yet, I found one. Or she found me. So, October 2012, Matilda Louise joined my household, a gorgeous orange tabby female, with unusual markings.
When I first brought her home, she would snuggle up with me on the couch and my heart would swell with love for this lovely girl cat, my rare gem.
Then a switch flipped and my cuddly orange tabby kitten became a hellion adult who would not go near a human.
This inhospitable beast of a cat has guests to my home questioning my sanity. They wonder why on earth I put up with a cat that acts as if all humans are lava, particularly when I have other cats that drape themselves over me like cheap whores the moment I sit down.
I question it as well whenever she needs to go to the vet in particular, as loading this spitfire into a carrier is slightly more enjoyable then the last root canal I had.
Yet, after almost 5 years of living with a cat that treats me as if I am Satan himself, something has changed.
Every morning, I sit on the edge of my bed. I take a few moments to breathe deeply, commune with God and just prepare myself for the day ahead. It's a necessary element to my day.
As I do this, I occasionally hear loud purring and feel a furry body plop next to me. Matilda Louise insists on joining me almost daily for this, allowing me to pet her and for a brief moment of time, we are mutually affectionate towards one another. At least until the orange fur covered demon decides that it's time to try to take a chunk out of my hand.
Matilda is complicated. Yet, I could never give her up, because out of all the pets I share my home with, she is the one that reminds me the most of myself.
Because this cat wants to connect with others, yet she is terrified of getting vulnerable and allowing herself to be loved on. She reaches out to connect, then lashes out in fear the moment she gets what she wants.
And the biggest thing I struggle with is allowing myself to be vulnerable with others. To admit I need people in my life.
I have had a rough couple of months, due to a big decision I made in regards to my personal life.
This decision was not easy, but it after researching and praying, I knew that it would ultimately be the best move for me.
And the next few years aren't going to be easy because of said decision, but again, the long term benefits will be worth it.
After wrestling with trying to make the right decision for months, I finally broke down and asked people to pray for me, although I felt it was selfish to ask
And was promptly lectured that it was not selfish
Yet, I still berated myself for doing it
It is not healthy, this problem of mine, that I don't reach out for help
I'd rather try to jam my finger in the hole in the dike to stop the flood then ask for others to help solve the problem
I work on it, but worry that it might be too late for me to change this particular habit of mine
Kind of like Matilda, who seems to be set on this path of living life fueled by hostility and Friskies, striking out at anyone who wants to bestow affection on her
Yet, some nights, as I watch my orange girl stalk her prey, real or imaginary, I notice her edging closer to my knitting chair.
Some nights, she will climb on up and arrange herself on my legs, drifting off into a deep slumber, utterly content to use me as her bed
And I realize that perhaps I should not write this cat off yet, as she has changed her behavior. She is willing to reach out, albeit, on her terms, to receive from others what they might give her
Sometimes, the other cats pounce on her, other times, they let her snuggle up into them. Every time she decides to sleep on me, I sit as still as I can, afraid to disturb her, as I just want this cat to realize that she is safe and loved
And I wonder why I have such a hard time giving myself the grace I give this dang cat
My behavior is slowly changing. To be a part of the community I have found, I cannot throw up my walls and keep others out.
It is worth it, this being brave and allowing myself to be real in front of others
It is also terrifying
However, Matilda and I continue to grow together, in our twisted ways
The struggle to be vulnerable has worked out mostly in our favor at this point.
Although we will both cut anyone who dare tries to rub our bellies. We ain't got time for that.
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