Life with a cat

 For the first time in my life, I lived with a cat.

I met one of my current roommates, Sadie, through Facebook during (roughly) the spring of 2022. We met up once or twice before living together, and she shared with the 3 of us how she wanted to adopt a cat when we moved into our new, now current, apartment. We were all excited about the idea of living with a cat- I mean, who wouldn't want to live with a new little buddy?

I never grew up having a pet cat. My parents are very much "dog people" with the occasional childhood pet fish, but that doesn't go to say I've never interacted with a cat before. Many of my friends growing up had cats- especially my childhood best friend- but we were usually too busy as younger kids to really ever spend much time around them. Honestly, we were probably too rowdy to even be of interest to cats. So when Sadie mentioned wanting to welcome a cat to our apartment, I was excited but didn't know what to expect. My only "rule" was to not have a tornado of a cat that would welcome security fees from the complex management when we moved out.

After moving in and getting settled in our apartment, Sadie began visiting shelters in search of her new companion. Being as we all trusted her judgment on what to look for, we didn't really accompany her on her trip to Second Chance Pet Adoptions, where she ended up meeting our 5th roommate, a little 2-year-old black cat.

Upon bringing her home, this sweet cat was met with four enthusiastic college girls ready to shower her with love, but she was definitely a little unsure of what it meant to have her own "college experience." Although excited to have attention and room to discover, she was very timid and underweight. We took turns introducing ourselves in Sadie's room where the cat stayed for the first week, and we were beyond excited to take on this new, fluffy, shared responsibility. She mainly hid under Sadie's bed, understandably frightened by the new noise of the busy street outside our apartment windows and overwhelmed with new smells and voices. 

By the end of the first week, though, Black Bean (Beanie) was feeling confident enough to climb into our laps and play on Sadie's floor. Once we were content in her level of comfort, we began to open Sadie's door for Bean to discover the rest of the shared space in the apartment. Sadie's room remained her safe space, but when feeling adventurous, she would step out into the kitchen floor space directly in front of Sadie's door. Still feeling overwhelmed, she wasn't the most affectionate cat, but honestly, I wouldn't want to snuggle with strangers either.

As weeks passed, we realized just exactly how playful this little black void was as she ran after toys on strings and discovered her love of laser pointers and treats. 

Still skeptical about handsy strangers, she grew acquainted with our large living room window and developed her habit of sitting there, watching people and cars pass. When Sadie originally adopted her, she was told that Beanie was a "lap cat" so we were all expecting to eventually be taking group naps on the couch with the fluffy one, but that wasn't becoming a reality.

In my time getting acquainted with Beanie, I learned exactly how to interact with a cat and the similarities and differences she had with my dogs back at home, Radar and Jack. I learned how to respect the boundaries she would draw when it came to being touched, something I wasn't used to with dogs eager to be loved on at any time. I learned how to gently enforce rules with an animal that can very easily try to steal my lunch, but that welcomed new opportunities, like having a new friend sit on a stool and watch me prep my dinner. I discovered commonalities in how she communicated her needs with her big spurts of energy shown through her goofy jumping around and mischievous habits of testing boundaries when she wanted to play. I grasped how to have patience and meet an animal where she was at instead of forcing my ideas of what she should be onto her. Contrary to dogs, I learned how the personality cats are "programmed" with isn't very malleable, so working to create a relationship around who she already was became a priority in my mind. If I was going to be living long-term with this little roommate, I wanted to be friends. 

Over time, I grew to love being around her, and we created our own personal relationship. When I was around the apartment, I would occasionally welcome her into my room to give her new experiences (with parental supervision, of course). She became far more curious and playful, and Beanie developed a hilarious habit of meowing outside my door for company when she was bored. We began playing chase, a game she dearly loves, and eventually, she became tolerant enough for me to pet and carry her at times. My new study buddy even began wrestling with me on my bed, a completely new experience for a dog owner like me.

Now, I would consider Beanie to be one of my newest friends, and I can say I confidently know this cat. I know how to pet her to spark an immediate purr, and when she's feeling especially gracious, she sits on my lap while I watch TV. We wrestle daily like WWE fighters, and I trust that although she has the capability to tear my hand to pieces, she would never intentionally leave a mark. I helped develop her love of ice cubes and smelling the spice cabinet close to the floor, and I can call the exact hours when she'll have her big spurts of energy and want to play. 

Although I never hated cats to begin with, I would definitely say I was skeptical of living with one. Now, my phone is flooded with goofy and sweet pictures of this little black fluff. I catch myself admiring her beauty (when she's not looking, of course), and I understand why Egyptians were so enthralled with these friends. I find myself picturing my own little one when I daydream about my adult life, and contemplating how humans can understand and connect with species outside of their own. The relationships we create with any animal speak volumes about our ability to empathize and communicate beyond spoken language. This experience has served as a reminder to me that our actions translate further than any words can encapsulate.