Cat Lady
“No excuses, K,” Gloria said to me in her Knoxville kitchen last Tuesday morning, an open can of cat food in her hand. “Go on your walkabout and don’t let anyone make decisions for you again.”
Her words were a gut punch. I nodded. Silent. Gloria has known me for two decades, and she understands the significance of my unplanned detour to Knoxville from Austin before heading to Indianapolis. For the first time in over thirty years, I’m beholden to no person or animal, I have no being in my care or to consider - no cat, dog, fish, child, spouse, partner, or combination thereof. I'm completely unencumbered, and these are foreign waters.
It became clear not long after I arrived in Austin that this peripatetic life was not good for my dog Koda. Constant changes and problem-solving were taking a toll on both of us. I need flexibility, and he needs stability. Our travels are not an Insta-worthy, #vanlife situation where I am some rock climbing, kayaking 20-something with her super chill and obedient cattle dog who wears a bandana and has his own skateboard brand. Not by a long shot. Koda is a sweet yet anxious hound who doesn’t do well with other dogs and doesn’t like change. Something needed to give.
Koda and I lived in my gracious friend Mary B’s magical house in Gaylord, MI from February through April, while she wintered in Mexico. During those cold and dark months, when my life felt like a tilt a whirl, Koda provided comfort and companionship. Having his warm body next to me on the couch while I binged Ted Lasso and Slow Horses and watched Under the Tuscan Sun for the 11 billionth time, was like a balm. He understood his job as Chief Comforter, and he Exceeded Expectations.
He and I walked along the North Central Trail that runs through Gaylord several times a day regardless of the weather. Koda sniffed and explored; I cried and processed and tried to imagine my new life while trying not to cling to the old one. The miles helped me heal. Repetitive motion has always been soothing to me. I walked to Mary B’s house from work at lunch to let Koda out and take a spin around the block. His potty breaks and feeding schedule took on new importance. They gave more structure to my days. Without him, I’m not sure I would have left the house when the wind and snow were blowing sideways. I hate to think how much more unmoored I would have been without having to take care of him and provide a routine. He was an anchor I needed.
That is why, less than a week into my Austin stay, I was flooded with sadness and guilt over my realization—I needed to rehome Koda.
Gloria was the first call I made. I knew that if I could tell her, then I could tell anyone, even my daughter, about my decision. Gloria is THE Cat Lady. She’s not The Crazy Cat Lady. Nope. Not at all. Gloria is one of the sanest people I have ever known, even if her extensive and well-organized collection of Monster High Dolls indicates otherwise. (Love you, G!)
Gloria’s singularity of purpose in life is striking and enviable. She suffers no existential angst or regrets about paths not taken. She knows what she is here to do. She does it. And anybody who questions her or doesn’t agree can go to hell. Or not. She doesn’t care either way.
She has no less than seven indoor cats at any time at her home, and so many outdoor cats that she doesn’t count. When possible, she captures the feral ones, has them fixed, and then lets them back outside. She believes that people who abandon animals should meet the same fate as William Wallace, and when asked if she was faced with saving a human child or a young animal from an oncoming vehicle, she takes the fifth. I stay on her good side.
“I need to find another home for Koda. Temporary, if possible,” I said without preamble.
“I was wondering how long you were going to hold out,” she said after a pause. “You lasted longer than I expected.” Relief washed over me. It was difficult to think about losing my dog; I didn’t want to lose a valued friendship as well.
Gloria came through. Gloria, The Cat Lady, Champion of Animals, beyond all odds, found a temporary home for my dog with a friend of hers who is kind and caring, works from home, and has a fenced-in yard. Koda has spent the last week and a half running around a yard chasing squirrels and barking at passers-by. He is in the best possible situation given our circumstances, and I am beyond grateful and relieved.
Taking care of others, four-legged or two, has been a huge chunk of my adult existence. Did I choose it, or did I fall into it by default? It kind of doesn’t matter. It is what I have known, and it is no longer. I cannot rely on a role that is comfortable and worn like an old pair of Birkenstocks. Time to break in a new pair.
This is part of the discomfort I am choosing to lean into. What do I do and who am I when I don’t have the bowling lane bumpers of someone else to consider? I don’t know.
I will continue my walkabout as Gloria instructed and see what is waiting for me on the other side. I’m reasonably certain it won’t be the role of Cat Lady. Gloria’s got that covered.