Cats for Comfort

I’m cat sitting at the moment, and I’ve decided that cats make the best therapists. They will listen to you vent for hours for nothing more than a can of tuna and scratch under the chin. They’ll offer their firm support: a genuine furry faced nuzzle, reminding you that they actually care that you are there and it’s not just about the money… They’ll weigh the pros and cons of your arguments with their paws on your lap, purring loudly, agreeing, yes, no, yes, yes, you definitely have issues, but carry on now, keep scratching…scratching…

Because you are scratching the surface of something bigger, something deeper… childhood trauma.







The Best Advice.

I’m like, so what do you think about that?



What would you do?

“Meow. Meow.”


What should I do?


Purr Purr Purr.

Yeah, okay, fine. I’ll give you a treat.

I know what you’re thinking, you are thinking, ohhh you are one of ‘those’ people….




But the truth is, I do like cats, I like cats a lot, but I also like dogs, like a lot a lot, especially small ones with squashed faces that snort like pigs, and I like hamsters, and hedgehogs, and ferrets, and sugar gliders. I like sugar gliders a lot, like an epic amount because I had them growing up and they are the smartest, coolest, craziest, most loving animals EVER… If you don’t know what a sugar glider is, google it right now, or better yet, youtube them, if you are from Australia, yeah, we do keep your wild life as pets on this side of the world…

I guess my animal loving identity is just as just as open, as pan, as fluid, as QUEER as my sexual identity.


You just can’t put me in a box… can you? ;-P

not unless it’s with a kitty and a fox,

and in that box, there is a monkey wearing socks

And a little girl who talks,

to herself…



But Seriously,

I just have so much love for the creatures of this world…

And I’m feeling a whole lot better about life.

It’s just like my therapist said: sometimes you swallow a little bit of hair and dirt along the way, even when your intentions are pure and clean, and you might not notice it there at first, but eventually all that crap from your past gets stuck in your chest, in your head, in your throat, makes you feel sick, like you just need to spit it all up, and then you do.

And Voila.

When life gives you hairballs, spit them out, and begin again.




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