#mostly me ranting about my awesome cat

Blog 6: 20/11/2020

In the midst of a pandemic, I got a cat. Vincent has been with me for nearly four months now, and I recognize myself in him, and him in me. When asking schizoids what kind of animal they think they are, there are a variety of answers, but many folks will just say “cat”. I think I understand why now. Comparing schizoids to cats is unlikely to win this blog a great deal of credibility, but hey, I’m just a schizoid, not a psychologist, and as goes for most schizoids: I don’t really care what you think about what I do anyhow.

(Picture of the beautiful Vincent, sleeping… He’s named after Vincent Van Gogh.)

This particular blog isn’t as serious as some of the previous ones, and is more about cats than about schizoids, but I sincerely hope you do enjoy it nonetheless!

Why it took me so long to get a cat in the first place

I’d lived alone for 10 years in a small apartment, and always wanted a cat, but was simultaneously fearing I would be a bad owner. (And for the first years of living here, there was also a Belgian law in place saying I couldn’t get animals if my landlord was against it, which he was.) (Fortunately that law has been changed a few years ago, so that argument no longer matters.)

But I was afraid I would be a bad cat owner too, because I have executive dysfunction as one of the side dishes that goes with my SPD, and this means that some days I don’t take good care of myself. That goes for eating, doing healthy stuff, cleaning, paying my bills on time… Important stuff. Over the years I’ve learned to take better care of my bills and I got help with cleaning. Eating is still something that I’m not doing as a normal person would do it. (I can eat a wedge of cheese and call it ‘dinner’. Also, what is this ‘breakfast’ thing so many people speak of?) As for doing healthy stuff for my body, like sports, yeah that ship has sailed. XD

So naturally my biggest fear was that I would be unable to take care of a cat and that I would neglect the creature’s needs as I neglect my own. A friend who struggled with depression and had a cat said that I had to stop worrying about that, and that I would take better care of the cat and it would take care of me in return. I’m glad I believed that friend, because she was right.

I have no trouble taking care of my cat: cleaning the litter box, making sure they eat well, that they get playtime… It’s easy, actually. And when things are wrong, I have been to the vet to check them out – which is more than can be said for myself. (I need to go to the dentist but have been putting it off for a long time…)

I was also afraid that a cat would be ‘too much’. As a schizoid, I get on edge with people surrounding me 24/7. Turns out cats are not people and I have no problem living 24/7 side by side with a cat. (I’ve been working from home and my sweet Vincent is always by my side and follows me across the apartment most of the time. It’s not a bother at all, it makes me smile.)

So I’m being a top-notch cat mom and loving it! And in return, I get some lovely cat snuggles and head bumps, and some free serotonin to help battle depression!

(just look at this serotonin machine!) 

Cats are lessons in consent

There’s this tweet that’s been going around the internet for a long time which is controversial to dog lovers, but absolute truth to cat lovers.

The tweet reads: “someone said cats are a lesson in consent and so many controlling people hate cats because they can’t control them and I haven’t stopped thinking about it since”

In a way, can’t the same be said about schizoids? “someone said schizoids are a lesson in consent and so many controlling people hate schizoids because they can’t control them and I haven’t stopped thinking about it since” – schizoids who have been bullied when they were younger can probably agree.

We’re originals, and we don’t let ourselves be controlled by the masses. (Though obviously, not even schizoids are immune to all kinds of manipulation, some types of manipulation are harder to pull off on us. I always feel like we’re immune to emotional blackmail in a way that neurotypicals are not. We get red flags going up in our system, and unless we ignore them we’re harder to fall for certain types of obvious manipulators.)

When schizoids clash with figures of authority, it’s often controlling people we’re clashing with in a similar way that cats piss off those same controlling people because they do their own thing and they don’t care if you like it or not.

But if you’ve been with a cat, you know that you can’t pet the cat, unless it wants you to, you can’t hold the cat, unless it wants you to, you can’t do anything to a cat, unless it wants you to. And if you do push on, they either run away or lash out in anger. That sounds like me, if you do stuff I dislike, I either run away, or I get angry as a means to scare you off. (The first more than the second.) So in that way, the lessons cats teach us about consent, are about the same lessons schizoids can teach you about consent.

Why cats are good for schizoids

I’ve mentioned it before, but cats are free serotonin machines. They’re soft and adorable and they purr when they’re happy. And schizoids are like permanently depressed zombies in a way – we can use all the serotonin we can get.

Serotonin won’t ‘cure’ being a schizoid, but it can change us from being a miserable schizoid into one that’s okay with life. So do look for serotonin in your own way. (And if you’re a dog person, I’m certain they distribute plenty of serotonin too!)

Getting a cat won’t cure us or stop us from wanting to be a hermit in some way, it will just encourage us to become ‘crazy cat ladies’ with 17 cats. But I bet we’d be happier that way than if we were alone.

Cats are also good for getting us to keep moving a little bit. If you’re a couch potato, a cat is nice to have. Because you have to play with them a few times a day, it will get you moving as well, and cleaning the litter box is a workout in itself. It’s all very minimal movements, in a way, so don’t expect to lose pounds from getting a cat, but if you’re as immobile as I am most of the time, a cat will get you out of your chair and using those muscles.

Unlike humans, cats don’t drain us. They don’t have draining emotional stories to tell us. (Though when you hear them meow about how hungry they are, you can imagine them telling you how they’ve been starved for MONTHS without food – that’s how dramatic they sound) – luckily, you know the truth and they’re just being a hungry little bastard. They demand very little – some food and some playtime, that’s it. They sleep like 16 hours a day and when they’re awake they don’t bother you for most of it either.

And cats love us in return. We have no trouble ignoring a cat for a while, and that’s something that cats often need to get used to their new owners. They don’t want to be chased around the house when they’re afraid, or they’ll end up hiding under the bed, they just want to explore on their own terms, and we have no trouble giving them the distance they want, because it’s the same sort of distance we would want for ourselves.

I think that our own disorder only helps us to understand cats better. They’re mirrors to us, in a way, and I hope that if you’re a schizoid cat owner, you agree!

(Vincent being a #schizoidmood)

How to get a cat then?

When I wanted to get a cat in the middle of a pandemic, I wrote e-mails to three local animal shelters. I basically said: “I’m looking for an indoor cat, preferably one that would not wreck my place, that can live alone. It’s okay if it’s an older cat and I’d love for it to be a ginger one.” Two of the animal shelters didn’t have any cat to offer me, but the third immediately sent me pictures of this cat that looked ill at ease and like he wanted to leave that place asap. He matched all the criteria.

He looked depressed – and for that reason I immediately wanted him. We could be depressed together!

Vincent’s story

The last week of July I went to the animal shelter, first to just meet the cat (always a good idea, and I also needed to wait for cat stuff to arrive, like the litter box and bowls and such). He did not come to me or act super affectionately – he was absolutely miserable. He was easy-going though, and as the owner of the place picked him up, he just let himself hang like a bag of potatoes until she placed him on the window sill. He was dodging my gaze, and it was clear he wanted to go back to the cat tunnel he’d been in, so he’d feel protected from the other cats and from us humans.

We did not bond at that moment, and my sister laughed at me afterwards. She said: “Why on earth would you take a cat that shows no interest in you? You have to get one that at least seems eager to go home with you!” I disagreed. Because the cat I had seen was miserable and just wanted peace and quiet, and that was what I could give him. It was also a cat that dodged conflict, not scratching or hissing, but just looked depressed. I was certain I could offer him what he needed.

(this pic was taken at the shelter, the week before I got him - as you can see he was in his tunnel, shedding like crazy, his eyes were dirty and he wasn’t taking great care of himself due to his depression. He was skin over bones and has since then gained a bit of weight.)

So a week later I took him home. On the drive home, he started meowing, uncertain of the new life that awaited him. His story was a rather sad one. He’d lived with a woman and 3 other cats and 3 dogs on a large property. The lady had moved to a smaller place, and with no room to keep the animals separate, the dogs were constantly chasing after the cats. The woman could not keep them apart anymore and was afraid of accidents happening, and dumped her 4 cats in the asylum. (They’ve all been adopted since, last thing I heard.)

In the shelter, I also saw him among the other cats, but he did not seem attached to them at all – if anything he seemed scared of them in such a small space, and one alpha-cat seemed to be ruling over them all. I can imagine he was glad to be rid of that particular cat at least.

I let him settle into the hallway the first days – his base camp – and spent time sitting on the floor with him nearby. The first hours he didn’t even leave the litter box – he felt safest where I couldn’t get to him. Later on he was allowed in my living space, and he spent most of his first weeks on the chairs underneath the table – once more in places where I couldn’t get to him.

I had intended to keep him from the bedroom, but when I was sleeping at night, he would start meowing at 4 AM at my door, so eventually I caved and let him in. At first he slept on the radiator bed I placed there for him.

It took about a month or so for him to accept me as his owner. One morning as I was still in bed he came, sat on top of my chest, and just looked at me for a full two minutes, like he was trying to communicate with me. No idea what he was saying or trying to convey with his long stare, but he hasn’t done it since, and things have only gotten better between us since then. I think he realized then it was gonna be me and him from then on.

He now no longer sleeps on the radiator bed, but at my feet all night. And when I’m awake in the morning or evening, he’ll curl up in my arms and sleep there for fifteen minutes before he moves back to my feet for the rest of the night.

We play during the day, something he had to learn because his previous owner had never played with him, but he needs it to get some energy out of his system, and if he’s hungry, he lets me know with his meows.

He makes me smile, a lot. He’s handsome and funny and like all cats, very curious. Though not about the outdoors – he is happy being indoors. When I open the door to the apartment hallway, he always runs back into the apartment – the outdoors is the last place he wants to go. But when I come home from shopping, he’ll investigate the bags to see what I brought home. When I’m eating, he’s nearly on my plate to inspect I’m not eating anything poisonous. (And to get some food for himself.) He’s hilarious and my best buddy now.

 (he’s spoiled rotten)

What if you want to get a cat?

Keep in mind it will be costly, and you want to be able to take your cat to the vet and get them the stuff they need to live a good life at your place. If you are financially tight, consider waiting until you’re better off, OR consider fostering cats. (Fostering cats often means they give you stuff to take care of the cat, like food and litter and such, and will even pay vet bills, but it also means you might need to give up the cat if someone wants to adopt it.)

During a pandemic, most shelters are closed for visitors, but they will happily respond to emails or facebook messages you send them as long as you show interest to get a cat.

If you want kittens, keep in mind they usually only let them get adopted in pairs – some shelters don’t, but here in Belgium I haven’t found any that do that unless the kitten really doesn’t get along with other cats or has some special medical needs.

I can only recommend adopting an older cat. Vincent is 7 and still full of life. So many older cats don’t get a second chance, and it is usually easier for the shelter to tell the character of an older cat than it is for them to estimate the character of a young cat. The plus side with older cats is that they’ve also been neutered and had their shots, which makes it a little easier on your purse at the start. (Though Vincent had to have some teeth pulled in the first month, which was quite costly too.)

Talk to other cat owners you know about what they do for their cats, products they use, and for all behavioral issues or quirks you notice in your cat, check out Jackson Galaxy on youtube, he’s called “the cat daddy”, and he knows all there is to know about cats. You’ll be a better cat mom or dad yourself if you watch his videos, it will help you interpret your own cat’s behavior.

Conclusion

If you have the means and are a schizoid who is feeling a little down, get yourself a serotonin machine, I mean a cat, in your house! You are saving a life and will most likely spoil the creature rotten. Not only that, but cats aren’t human, and are therefore perfect companions to schizoids! Schizoids are often hermits, but how often do you think they’re crazy cat ladies too? ;-)

(look at that cutie sleeping at my feet)