The Cat Saga Is Not A Metaphor For My Life … Or Is It?

When I walked into the shelter there were three or four cats vying for my attention. But I had my eyes on only one: The one who didn’t trust humans.

Rescued from the mean streets of Baltimore and reared for 2.5 years at the shelter, her hesitation towards affection and her traumatic past appealed to me because I saw myself in this cat.

If I could love this cat back to life, I thought, then someone could love me.

While the other cats brushed against my leg and jumped on countertops hoping that I would play with them, the cat I chose immediately hissed and scratched me so badly I bled.

My response: “I’ll take her.”

Four days later, and I am sitting in my living room crying and waiting for the shelter to come take her back. I would have done so myself, but she won’t let me near her.

My mind is reeling as I try desperately not to make this cat a metaphor for my life, but the parallels hit too close to home to ignore.

I was immediately drawn to the cat with trauma because I saw my own trauma reflected in the cat. If I could fix this cat, then the cat would be loyal to me. So I went for the cat who wasn’t warm to me, the one who ignored me, the one who was emotionally unavailable.

It feels a little too on the nose, but this is exactly what I do in relationships. I see broken people, and I want to fix them. I want to show them unwavering loyalty with hope that they will return the favor. I want to fix them to prove that I myself am not beyond repair, to believe that someone could possibly be willing to take a chance on me.

But I can’t fix a traumatized cat any more than I can fix a traumatized man. And the more I fought for the love of this cat, the more this cat showed disinterest and hostility toward me. You’d think that would have pushed me away, but it strengthened my resolve to win her over.

Eventually, I had to face the fact that even though I didn’t want to give up, the cat was not eating, the cat was not sleeping, and it desperately wanted to go back to its feline friends at the shelter.

When I decide something is my destiny, I can’t let it go, facts and consequences be damned. And I had made up my mind that I was going to rehabilitate this kitty. I was going to believe in her and shower her with love until we bonded and she became my lifetime companion.

Yet, I couldn’t force my love on this cat any more than I could force it on other humans.

After talking day and night with the amazing shelter, we decided that the cat needed to come back and I needed to pick a different cat who was more suited to my needs. It wasn’t my fault, they assured me, the cat just needed to be around other cats.

I’m a comic, I specialize in self-deprecating humor. It has been both entertaining and a coping strategy for me to find the similarities between my relationships and this cat saga. But the truth is, I’m shaken by this experience and I’ve been crying since I made the decision last night.

This season of my life has been dedicated to trying my hardest to learn from my past mistakes so as not to repeat the errors that have brought on the suffering I’m dealing with today.

But I did it again. This time with an animal. And this rejection somehow hurt almost as bad as it has with humans.

I love loving things — animals and humans alike — who are incapable of loving me back.

There were several cats in that shelter who were warm to me and wanted to come home with me. I went with the one who wasn’t and didn’t.

I understand that this is a cat and not a person, but this situation represents something bigger. Loyalty does not beget loyalty, nor is one-sided loyalty necessarily healthy.

We can give our whole hearts and someone still may not want it. And when we keep giving ourselves after the signs are clear, we do so at our own peril.

Am I reading too much into this situation? Probably. But the last four days have been emotionally draining. That being said, I’m so grateful for them.

Typically, I make the same mistakes with humans, men to be exact, over and over again. While I think cats are, in many ways, better than humans, I still repeated the pattern here.

I wanted someone broken to let me love it back to life. I should have loved myself back to life, and then sought a cat who reciprocated my love for it.

I am lucky. I get a second chance. I get to go pick out a new kitty this week and I’m not going to pick the cat who doesn’t want to be picked — I’m going to pick the cat who brushes against my leg, who wants me to pet him, or her. And eventually, someday, I will learn to adopt the same strategy with humans and choose the ones who want to be with me.

I’m heartbroken that this kitty’s time with me was not pleasant for her. I’m devastated that me laying on the floor next to her, singing show tunes, and speaking soft words for countless hours was not enough to make her feel at ease. But not everyone is suited for each other, animal or human.

Ultimately, I have learned so much about myself and what I want in the last four days. I am eager and excited to find a cat that I can truly call my own and I hope there is a broader lesson to be learned from all this.