I’ve talked about being an over thinker before. I’ve talked about how it often contributes to my little bouts with anxiety and how it talks me out of a lot of things I should have said yes to. Impromptu hangouts, saying what I actually wanted to say to a favourite musician, submitting a piece of writing in a contest, taking a last minute vacation, asking out that good looking guy, etc.
HOWEVER!
Sometimes my over thinking is there for good reason. Like in the case of my rambunctious kitten named Freddie. Freddie Galileo! Yes I named him after Freddie Mercury. The man loved cats, didn’t you know?
I decided as a teenager that I wanted to get a cat when I moved out. I wanted a cat even more after I started writing my last fanfic, in which a character lives in an apartment building where a cat named Freddie resides. I had wanted a black cat (I love freaking out superstitious people and I love horror, so it would have been suiting), but how could anyone say no to this cute ball of orange fluff?
Cute but mischievous. I should have known based on his expression in this picture:
Either way, Freddie turned out to be an orange tabby cat, rather than a sleek black cat reminiscent of Mistoffelees the famous conjuring cat.
WHICH IS TOTALLY FINE! He’s a bit more Mungojerrie meets Skimbleshanks. I accept that. Mungo was always my favourite anyway.
Now, after moving into my first house last year I didn’t start researching interior design, oh no. I jumped right into the depths of YouTube, watching people adopting their precious first kittens and reading article after article of how to kitten-proof your house.
Family and friends told me I was overthinking. All the research I was doing was silly. My cat wouldn’t almost fall into the toilet. My cat wouldn’t take interest in electrical outlets. My cat wouldn’t pull threads out from the rug and laundry basket, try to swing picture frames off the wall, jump into the Christmas tree, learn to open closets and then pull down all my clothes, run around the house with my headphones, chew insulation fluff from the dishwasher or claw at the vent under the microwave. He wouldn’t roll around in fresh litter, leave a little piece of poop in the middle of the room for me to find because he’s mad, chew on my hair or thump around the house at 2 AM like 5,000 people at a rave. “You’re overthinking it all,” they told me. “Cats are easy,” they said.
Guess who was right to overthink THIS time? Freddie has done all of the above and more. He also likes to swipe this one teething toy under the basement door on purpose and then cry at me to go get it. I don’t understand.
Even so, I love the little heathen.
In the case that you also just adopted yourself an orange furry blur of energy and terror here are the little snippets of information I can provide:
– Yes you should buy little plastic outlet protector nubbins because little sharp teeth and little sharp claws might seek outlets when bored.
– Yes you should buy closet sliders to ensure your menace doesn’t pull the door open and proceed to pull everything you own off the hangers because you didn’t pay attention to them for two minutes.
– Yes you should wrap your cable cords, phone cords, router cords, umbilical cords and any other cords you can think of in some kind of protector because your manic mammal’s razor teeth chew through anything and everything
– Hide the chargers. Hide ALL the chargers. I don’t know what other cats do but mine likes to trot around with them like he’s in a parade.
– Roll up the fancy rugs and put away all puzzle pieces and tacks. Obvious reasons why here.
– Got food on your counters? Got food in BAGS on your counters? Put it all away. Your mischievous feline doesn’t care if the Cheetos Puffs are INSIDE a bag. One time I had a bag of Cheetos Puffs at my side like a health-conscious human being. When I put my hand in for another I heard suspicious crunching. Odd, because I didn’t have any neon orange goodness in MY mouth. I looked down and there was Freddie casually chewing on a Cheetos Puff. He’d gnawed a little hole into the bottom of the bag, just big enough to pull one out. He stared up at me like he hadn’t just committed a crime and then like a slow motion scene in a Hollywood film he went to get another AS I WAS WATCHING HIM. Cats don’t care. Kittens don’t care twice as hard. Protect your Cheetos Puffs.
– If you don’t like being peeped on while you’re taking a bath or shower lock your lil pervert up or make sure to close the bathroom door. Have you ever made eye contact with a cat while you were minding your own business in the bathtub, trying to unwind after a long day? ‘Cause I’ll tell you who breaks eye contact first. Spoiler alert: it’s not your body confident cat who will literally come sit on the edge of the tub and stroke your wet hair with his paw like something out of ‘Criminal Minds’.
– Buy all the toys you want for your tiny psycho, but I promise they’ll be more interested in the reusable grocery bag you left on the floor, that receipt from Costco that you left on the table, the empty box from Amazon, the miniscule piece of dust in the corner that only they can see, the thread you’ve been meaning to cut off your shirt and the sink. Just something about sinks and lying in them like it’s their own personal spa.
When I pour new litter in, he thinks it’s a sandbox. He has a bigger, covered litter box now.
All of this said though, there are just as many pros.
Endless laughs and “Awwwww” moments. Cuddles and head-butts. Someone to rant to who can only argue back in meows. Stories to share with other animal lovers and a guard to be on the lookout while you sleep. Someone that reminds you if you’ve been on your phone or laptop too long by walking right in front of the screen to distract you. A calming influence and new best friend.
In short, I highly recommend getting a cat. Even if they’re a menace at times, they’ll win you over. Just be prepared for a little bit of chaos. Chaos in small dosages make life a lot more interesting.
