Cats and Depression

This is Jack. He is the cat of my depression.  He is not the first.  Lucy was the first. She used to stalk me and attack. There was blood.  She once "did her duty" on my husband's pillow after he and I had a fight.  She was born in a barn, was a mouser by birth and, sadly, I had to say goodbye one day and send her off to my daughter's friend's farm.

So I wonder about depressed and lonely women with cats/cat.  I remember a stereotype about "old maid" aunts living with multiple cats.  They seemed crazy.  They looked crazy.  The newspaper occasionally reports about animal control seizing, sometimes, a hundred cats from some little old lady's smelly home.  A popular television character worried while living alone that she would die, decompose without being found, and subsequently her cat, starving, would begin to feed on her face.  (I worry about this often, especially when Jack gets a certain look when we are having a stare-down.)

The aunt, the lonely neighbor, yours truly, all have in common one thing:  depression.  Among many other things we need, desperately, unconditional love.  And what do we "give" ourselves?

The Cat.        (Paul McCartney/Wings "My Love" plays in the background)
                      

the beloved/hated cat, o why?
she is a dog lover
but, alas, she lives so high up
(and yet so low)

the dog must go out
there
rain shine wind snow
she may have to talk to someone

so the cat

he sometimes communicates, most times ... not
he wants the morning rub... so does she
she calls and he comes
after a while.  first he must appear disinterested.
he exhibits dangerous jumping behavior.  she accepts it and wonders....
he joins her, longingly, as she gazes out the window.  wanting to be free.  but fearful.
he messes with her head in innocent cat playfulness - she needs more therapy
she lives alone in her head.  so does he.
he shows off eating then vomiting and he isn't labeled with a disorder
both seem to survive with sunshine

he is the only one who gets the human contact needed
he often acts like a dog
which confuses her more
well,

he keeps the squirrels off her balcony flowers, he likes the music loud, and
she can spend two weeks in her apartment never speaking to anyone.  he's with her all the way.

this must be why we have
the cat