I can admit I am a crazy cat lady. Cats have always been a part of my life. From an early age, I was fascinated with the independent creatures. Their soft fur, charm, and ability to know just when you need a good cuddle enthralled me and made them my soul creature. I used to chase them around the house, trying to catch them, and learning to respect them when they scratched my face for being a little shit.

My first cat that was personally “Anne’s cat” was named Charlie. My family adopted him and his sister, Cleo, when I was around five years old. Charlie was not my number one fan for a few years. Yes, he was my cat, but remember what I said above how I liked to chase cats? This was a major turn off for many of them. As all kids learn to understand, pets are fragile and different from toys. You love, care, and treat pets like the family they are. You don’t get rid of the cat for scratching the kid; you teach the kid to not push the cat’s buttons and learn to read their moods. As I calmed down with age, Charlie bonded with me and followed me around, my practical shadow.

I’ve experienced the joy of being parts of these cats lives and felt the crushing soul-wretching agony and despair when one would pass away. I’d sink into a hole of agony with the passing of each cat knowing they were taking a part of me with them in death. They’d always be a part of my life, and helped shape me through their teachings and love. Even now, years after many have passed, I get tears in my eyes over the thought of the lost family members— but grateful for the time I was with them.

In this regard I dislike my fellow man for many of them disregarding and treating pets as lower creatures. Each time I hear or read stories of people who give up their pets since they can’t “handle it,” I want to punch them in the face and call them selfish bastards who didn’t deserve the creatures anyway. When I hear stories of people killing animals or harming them in any way, a white rage fills my body and I have to restrain myself from hunting these individuals down and doing eye for an eye. Those who harm creatures deserve the same, to be locked away and the key thrown out. Harsh you may say? Well, harsh is what I’d use to describe their treatment of a defenseless creature that trusted them.

Some people will say animals don’t have feelings and “aren’t human” but each animal in my opinion has a soul and depth of emotions that often surpass many individuals I have met. My cats are so full of personality and weird little quirks it’s hard to think of them as “cats” but rather as members of the family. We have the worrier (Blue), the diva (Brutus), and the talkative youngster (Bucky). Each of them share their lives with Mack and I and enrich them for letting us be their “owners” (or rather, their slaves).

As I write this, I’m filled with equal parts rage and deep sadness in regards to situations relating to cats today. I got an email this morning from someone looking to find a new home for a cat. This individual knows I’m crazy cat lady and take good care of my family so thought to ask me for a solution to the situation. The cat in question used to be her boyfriend’s cat, however she is very allergic to the cat so found it a new home with a friend. Well, the friend is pregnant and very selfish. The friend ends up pregnant and decides she doesn’t want to “deal” with the cat and baby and tells the original owner she is throwing the cat out on the street this weekend if she does not find a solution. There is, of course, differing stories depending on the party which you are talking to.

I get that you’re pregnant and can’t “deal” with it but seriously? I won’t even go into how livid I am about that situation. I am sure you have a fairly good idea.

My deep sadness comes from tonight. While Mack and I were heading to Blockbuster, we spotted a dead kitten in the road, apparently a hit and run. Left there with no dignity in death— my heart bled and we turned around to at least move it out of the road so it wouldn’t be continually hit and left with no respect. Using one of my sweatshirts in the back, Mack gingerly moved the kitten (who was probably a feral kitten) out of the road so it wouldn’t suffer any further disgrace. (And yes, I’m currently washing the sweatshirt that was used to move the body).

I guess what angers me is knowing that kitten was a product of neglect, of someone deciding they couldn’t “deal” with a cat and throwing it out into nature to breed and create more feral cats. Kittens and cats who don’t have a chance at love, a chance at a home, a chance at life since someone is too selfish to deal with other beings other than themselves.

I’m saddened by my fellow man tonight and wish people would get their heads out of their asses and realize that animals, like them, have feelings and deserve a chance at love and family, too.

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