Cat Women

It’s 2013.  Another year, so I guess i will do what we ALL do and make “new starts”.  Try to use the new beginning as a way to motivate myself to do all those projects that I found reasons to procrastinate on.  Like this blog! 

Cats n Tats is supposed to be about rediscovering the fabulousness of the Cat Lady.  Unfortunately, many women have made the typical stereotype of the Cat Lady a hard truth with their unwashed hair and fur-covered clothing. I guess we need a new name.  Something that defines sexy, strong, PROUD women.  Maybe we could honor Eartha Kitt, who started us off so well, by calling ourselves Cat Women. 

In my opinion, if you want to defy the stereotype, you need to follow a few basic rules.  

1. Respect Yourself

2. Respect Your Cats

3. Know Your Limits

Those seem to be the most important for me.  While I strongly believe that having a deep affection and empathy for animals does not diminish our capacity to have relationships with people, I will admit that many of us may have turned to animals for co-dependent reasons.  This is why the first two things are so important.  I will try to write the next few posts to explain what I believe each of these rules to mean, and why they are important if you are going to rock being a Cat Woman.  

Later on, I will talk about other ways to be totally awesome.  TIps for managing large (or small!) cat issues.  Medical care, litter box issues, housekeeping, in-fighting.  We will talk about fostering, adoption techniques, and how to keep hair off your wardrobe.  We will discuss looking like a super model, why tattoos rock (especially if they are cattoos!) and we will NEVER EVER EVER talk in “cat voice” to anyone but our cats.  EVER. 

What are my qualifications for being such a fabulous Cat Woman?  I have a shitload of cats, I have been working with a private rescue organization for over 11 years, and I have been working for one of the country’s most well-known animal organizations for over 4 years.  I have made a CAREER out of being a Cat Woman.  I have an amazing wardrobe, awesome tattoos (and an awesome tattoo artist!) and a wonderful network of Cat Woman support.  I have actually even managed to not be single for the past few months!  While the relationship area of my life is often “under construction”, I know incredible Cat Women who have fantastic husbands.  It IS possible.  

It IS possible to be a Cat Woman and not be a pariah.  Let’s build our community of fabulousness.  Respect Yourself.  Respect Your Cats.  Know Your Limits.  

 

The “first” tattoo….

When I was 23 years old, something inspired me to get a tattoo. I have no idea what; I mean, I was never one of those girls who took risks, or was looking for attention, or liked pain, or even one who was fun in a crazy way.  I was pretty normal and boring.  But I got a tattoo, maybe the size of a quarter.  My mother was horrified and called it “the mutilation”.  And then that was kind of it.  They say that tattoos are addictive, but I went years without really wanting another one at all.

And then I got cats.

I decided I wanted a cat tattoo.  A small one, maybe just a silhouette of a black cat on my ankle or something.  The problem was, I could never think of a concept that I liked enough.  The cat wasn’t sitting the right way, or it looked too cartoony or too cutesy or too modern.  I went for years thinking about this, and over the years the concept grew in my head.

I finally decided I wanted a cat silhouette, filled in with a design – filigree or flowers or something.  Since I am not an artist and I have just about zero imagination, this is as far as the idea went. I was constantly looking for pictures of something that would inspire me, but I never really found “it”.

When I eventually changed jobs, I found myself surrounded by fewer corporate drones, and tons of creative, liberal people.  People with tattoos. ALL OVER! Full sleeves, tattoos on their faces.  It was fascinating and wonderful.  I got more interested and couldn’t stop thinking about my hazy notion of a tattoo.  I asked one of the inked up women who she had been going to.  She gave me 2 names.  Both of those people didn’t pan out, but I got to look at their portfolios and I could see the difference between good ink and terrible ink.

I started surfing for tattoo parlor sites, but after a phone call to one of them I was a little intimidated.  I was greeted roughly and basically told “you can’t just stop in”.  I just wanted to go see what the work was like, meet the person who might potentially be marking me up forever.  It was a really large and successful place, too, so I felt like this must just be the norm.  I figured I wasn’t bad-ass enough to even handle a phone call to the tattoo parlor.

Finally, though, someone who had adopted cats from my rescue group gave me the name of her tattoo artist.  Ironically, she had only a simple line tattoo.  It was nowhere NEAR what I wanted, but she said her artist was awesome and was also a cat lover.  Oh.  Ok!

I looked her up online, and saw her work.  It was great.  I called to ask about talking to her about an idea.  They told me to come down for a consultation.  I showed her some pictures.  She loved the idea, and told me to book an appointment for a week later.  She would have it drawn up and we could make changes then, if I needed them.

I was a bit nervous about booking an appointment for a drawing I had not even seen yet – but she did great work, and – well, I am kind of a pushover.

But let me tell you…..

SHE.  WAS.  AMAZING.

And now I am addicted.  Since this tattoo was done a year and a half ago, I have gotten 3 others – all by Betty Rose.  My Tattoo Goddess.

Hoard-a-rific

I totally love going to hoarder houses. I get to be all judgmental and point out to myself how much I am totally not a hoarder.
Plus, I find the psychological aspect of it fascinating. I wish I had realized in college that I would be interested in psychology. It would have been really awesome to have a useful major.

You probably have NO idea how many people have a shitload of animals. In general, the reactions are never very positive when you talk about how many cats (or dogs) you have, if you have more than 2. Even 3 cats gets you an “oh, wow. 3, huh? Why do you need 3?”. So when you say you have 10, or 17, or whatever you happen to have……well, let’s just say you would get a less negative reaction if you told someone you were shooting heroin in the bathroom at work. Because of this, most people with multiple pets keep it the fuck to themselves. We have a general number that we use for our lies. Mine is 6, but sometimes I just think it’s none of your damn business.

Generally Nosy Person: “How many cats do you have?”

Me: “um….a lot”.

GNP: “Well, what’s a lot? 4?”

Me: blank stare.

GNP:”What? Like, 10? More than 10? 20?”

Me: “A lot”.

GNP: “Well, like, how many?”

Me: “It’s funny that no matter how many times I refuse to answer your question, you feel comfortable enough to keep badgering me about something that I clearly don’t want to discuss with you”.

GNP: Walks away.

It is noteworthy that actual hoarders often don’t need to be asked how many animals they have. They willingly tell you, before you have asked. They are the martyrs doing “God’s work” and relish telling you all the stinky details. Unfortunately they probably don’t put as much enthusiasm into actually caring for their furry little tenants.

Recently, I have had the opportunity to go to 2 hoarder houses. I don’t always put total stock in it when someone is referred to as a hoarder. It’s not so much about how many you have – it’s really more about how well you are able to function and care for the animals in your home. If you have 50 cats that are healthy and you can manage their well-being (and your own!) you really aren’t a hoarder. If you have 10 cats and everything is a hot mess……well, you are a hoarder. Get on that shit.

Here is a list of some easy ways to know that someone is PROBABLY a hoarder:

1) Hoarder Stench. You can usually smell this as you APPROACH the house. And unlike what you expect, it’s not always just a stench of urine! It’s this weird, very unique smell that is probably some mix of excrement, wet cat food, stale litter, and general filth. Some people smell like this as they roam the world at large, which is just frightening. (A rescuer at the vet once repeatedly (and loudly) asked me if her hair smelled like cat piss. I pretended not to know her). No amount of air freshener can hide Hoarder Stench.

2) Cats aren’t really cats. While hoarders will claim to love animals, it’s not a totally accurate statement. Hoarders see animals as possessions, or some kind of weird mini-human-baby-doll substitutes. At one of the houses, when we walked up to the door, she was holding cat after cat up to the window to “wave” at us. If the smell hadn’t already tipped me off, that would absolutely have done it. Cats don’t want to be dressed up or collected in boxes(cages) like collectibles. They just want to be cats. If you can love them with an actual respect for them as individuals that have feelings or desires, you are probably not a hoarder.

3) GARBAGE. This is prevalent among the “stuff” hoarders, too….and I think that with some cat hoarders, it’s not the cats that are a problem. I think it’s two separate issues. I think that with “stuff” hoarders, there is a sense of being overwhelmed and unable to correct a problem….so it gets worse. I think even stuff hoarders have 2 categories….WON’T let stuff go, and just can’t deal with the giant mess of stuff so they ignore it. The SECOND category can usually be fixed (in my unprofessional, totally-not-a-psychologist opinion). You just need a good motivation and maybe some helpers. Once the overwhelming problem is fixed, the maintenance is easy. The cat people will blame the garbage-y mess on being too busy to clean (because they are running around feeding cats), but you will see that it escalates to not cleaning litter boxes or doing laundry……and then we have arrived at :

4) Full Fledged Denial. We walked into one hoarder’s house and she excused the mess by saying she was still unpacking. I guess that the unpacking accounted for the loads of useless items that were accumulated on her staircase – as well as the 3 months worth of cat hair and tracked litter. I guess her vacuum was still packed away.

I went to a class once where we were taught about the different “types” of hoarders. Like the guy who has two un-neutered animals that just start having babies, and eventually he cannot keep up. Or the rescuer who has really good intentions and tries to get them all fed and to the vet, but has just taken on too much to manage. Overwhelmed people usually have an understanding of what their situation is, and are willing to correct it if they can just get the help, or get out of their depressed slump. But true hoarders have a warped sense of reality. I am pretty sure that they don’t accurately see what they are doing – they don’t SEE that the cat has scald-marks from sitting in it’s own urine constantly. They don’t SEE that this cat is emaciated and lethargic. There are a lot of disconnects for them. They know enough to not want anyone in their house, but they deny how bad it truly is, especially to themselves. They are usually very intelligent and manipulative. Hoarders are scary fucking people.

If you feel proud of what you do for animals and grateful for what animals have brought to your life, try to remember to celebrate that. You may not always be understood – but you will never be alone. We are a whole secret society that even WE don’t know exists!

Hello world!

Once upon a time, I was a normal girl. Well, probably not normal, but I’m sure you understand what I mean.

Then I adopted cats.

My mother will tell you that this is where it all went downhill – and some days I would agree with her (not that I would ever admit it and don’t you DARE tell her that). Most days, though, even through the cat hair and the kamikaze leaps onto my stomach from 3 feet above my bed, I am grateful. Cats gave me more than pets. They gave me awareness. Compassion. Purpose. A career. And – most importantly – tattoos.

I will be the first to admit that I like to judge people. It’s fun! And I know that I get judged at LEAST as much as everyone else does – maybe more. Being a cat lady is kind of worse than being a heroin addict, when it comes to being on the receiving end of judgement. Being a cat lady is not something that anyone pities you for, or “understands”. And I kinda get that. I mean, I have MET “crazy cat ladies”. Lots of them. And believe me, I judge the FUCK out of them. They are crazy.

But that’s not me.

And that’s what I want to show the world. Cat ladies are sexy. We are “normal”. We are fun and invaluable and wise. We are hidden among you and you probably even like us a little.

Here I am, at 38 years old. Single, cat lady, tattooed. Aspiring vegan who hates vegetables. It’s awesome to be me.