Third time lucky?

After my second cat, I really spent a long time thinking I was an unfit cat parent and should be barred from ever owning another pet, having rehomed 2 previous cats. The first cat was left to an ex-boyfriend through a mutual decision when I broke up with him and moved in with an allergic roommate, though I had originally acquired the cat separately from the boy. The second cat was rehomed just prior to the birth of my daughter.

That cat was either a bit of a wild nightmare, or I didn't play with it enough to prevent it going crazy - probably a bit of both. But I didn't trust the cat around a newborn, or, more accurately, myself around the combination of a newborn and the cat. After an ad I placed on Craigslist detailing all of my cat’s behavioral issues resulted in an instant pick up offer, I took it down immediately as I realized the cat was probably going to be used for target practice. Thankfully, a friend's disabled aunt was excited to adopt the poor bugger - I figured they were a good match since she'd be home all day to play with him.

Years later, I received a picture of the thriving cat, barely recognizable and now 4 times larger. Apparently, the vet's recommended diet was severely underestimating the caloric needs of this cat, who was now fat, happy, and way too lazy to destroy his habitat in search of food.

You see, fat bias exist in the pet world as well; veterinarians are convinced by studies showing poor outcomes for obese cats, and pressure their clients' owners to keep them on a strict diet. But do you want a miserable, hungy cat who will live for 18 years or a delightful, satiated cat for 15? I recently realized I was underfeeding my third cat by incorrectly following the confusing instructions about combining dry and wet food. You better believe I corrected that mistake as soon as I found it! There will be no starving cats - or humans - in my household.

Third-time-lucky cat is actually my daughter's cat, except that I do all of the cat-related chores such as feeding, cleaning the litter box, and methodically playing with her to tire her out. My daughter tries to just be there for the fun stuff, except it doesn't really work that way: cat only wants to cuddle and be petted after all the chores and playing have been done, and my daughter is never patient enough to make it to the calm time.

Before these three cats, another cat inhabited my childhood summers when it came to visit. My late paternal grandmother who published two books of essays even included one about me and the cat. I’ll get back to you once I’ve read it. No doubt, it’s much more poignant than mine.