So, I was browsing my tag links today and came across another blog that was talking about this article in the New York Times from two weeks ago. Who knew men with cats could prove to be such an intriguing example of gender identity markers. (The article’s premise is that straight-men-with- cats = more-confident-self-assured-men and implies these are better men for women to date as a result of this confidence and self-assurance.)
As a long-time cat owner I don’t know what to make of this sudden interest in my choice of animal companionship. I have had cats and dogs in my life as long as I can remember and they all have meant a lot to me. When I came home from university after my first semester I remember bursting into tears upon finding out that the dog I had grown up with had to be put down from illness and old age while I was away.
But when I was living on my own in my early 20s–and still a student at university–I had a great small dog (half Golden, half Cocker Spaniel mix named Max) that was a lot of fun to have around. My house-mate was able to help in the care for Max and I had a few friends who would look after him when I went out of town. Although, when I finished school and moved out of the VA suburbs into DC, I found out how much harder it is to keep a dog in an urban environment. As a result, Max was given to a family that lived in Emmaus, PA not too far from where my Mom was living at the time with her second husband.
I then went four years without any pet. My kitty Roswell has been my constant companion for almost 9 years now. I was married when I got her but from the first week my then-wife knew she was my cat. Roswell liked my wife but she was very much “Daddy’s kitty”. In fact, when I left my wife and got divorced, I asked for only three possessions from the marriage: Roswell was at the top of the list and was non-negotiable.
She has mellowed with age but still gets the occasional mouse or bird. She is a great city cat but finding a place to live that allows cats and also give me access to a yard has been tough–Roswell has been an indoor/ outdoor cat most of her life and I was not going to force to be an indoor- only cat when I moved to the City. Looking for an apartment in row houses or brownstones has been the best solution for me.
What makes me love her is the obvious companionship and affection she displays towards me but her overall personality as well. She can be very lovey one moment and then completely aloof the next. She doesn’t seem to need me so much as want me and when she doesn’t want me she just gets up and walks away. She is low-maintenance in some ways (I feed her basic dry cat food with the occasional soft treat or can of wet food) and high maintenance in others (In her mind, the only reason for me to sit in my rocking chair is so she can climb in my lap and take a nap; In her mind, reading or using my computer is never an acceptable reason for me to be in the rocking chair).
She “talks” to me when I come home and I talk back to her. This is the time where I get a few minutes of what I call cat-therapy where I rub her and pet her and scratch her head and begin to forget about what was bothering me that day. It’s very beneficial as a relaxation tool and serves to re-assure both of us of the other one’s constancy and commitment. (Roswell was left in the woods with her kittens at less than one year of age and has some obvious abandonment issues as manifest in how she interacts with me.) After a few minutes I can go about my business and count on her to hop into my lap—or more likely, try and lay on my keyboard and mouse—at some point during the evening.
She usually doesn’t sleep with me unless it is Winter, and then only during an especially cold night. But if I have a woman spend the night she will be right there on the bed trying to get between the two of us. Most of my girlfriends have taken a liking to Roswell, and they and she eventually come to an understanding of how to “share” me in bed.
I agree with most of the men in the article and the reasons they give as to why they own cats. From their better suitability for living in an urban environment to their independent-but-needy ways, cats make great pets and companions. But if I had a brownstone with a back-yard all to myself you can be sure I would have a dog as well. (But the dog would know Roswell has rule over the place.)
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And for the record, I don’t keep any pictures of Roswell on my desk at work (as does one of the guys in the article) but I do carry a picture of her in my wallet from shortly after I first got her (along with pictures of my two young nieces).
Men and Their Cats
So, I was browsing my tag links today and came across another blog that was talking about this article in the New York Times from two weeks ago. Who knew men with cats could prove to be such an intriguing example of gender identity markers. (The article’s premise is that straight-men-with- cats = more-confident-self-assured-men and implies these are better men for women to date as a result of this confidence and self-assurance.)
As a long-time cat owner I don’t know what to make of this sudden interest in my choice of animal companionship. I have had cats and dogs in my life as long as I can remember and they all have meant a lot to me. When I came home from university after my first semester I remember bursting into tears upon finding out that the dog I had grown up with had to be put down from illness and old age while I was away.
But when I was living on my own in my early 20s–and still a student at university–I had a great small dog (half Golden, half Cocker Spaniel mix named Max) that was a lot of fun to have around. My house-mate was able to help in the care for Max and I had a few friends who would look after him when I went out of town. Although, when I finished school and moved out of the VA suburbs into DC, I found out how much harder it is to keep a dog in an urban environment. As a result, Max was given to a family that lived in Emmaus, PA not too far from where my Mom was living at the time with her second husband.
I then went four years without any pet. My kitty Roswell has been my constant companion for almost 9 years now. I was married when I got her but from the first week my then-wife knew she was my cat. Roswell liked my wife but she was very much “Daddy’s kitty”. In fact, when I left my wife and got divorced, I asked for only three possessions from the marriage: Roswell was at the top of the list and was non-negotiable.
She has mellowed with age but still gets the occasional mouse or bird. She is a great city cat but finding a place to live that allows cats and also give me access to a yard has been tough–Roswell has been an indoor/ outdoor cat most of her life and I was not going to force to be an indoor- only cat when I moved to the City. Looking for an apartment in row houses or brownstones has been the best solution for me.
What makes me love her is the obvious companionship and affection she displays towards me but her overall personality as well. She can be very lovey one moment and then completely aloof the next. She doesn’t seem to need me so much as want me and when she doesn’t want me she just gets up and walks away. She is low-maintenance in some ways (I feed her basic dry cat food with the occasional soft treat or can of wet food) and high maintenance in others (In her mind, the only reason for me to sit in my rocking chair is so she can climb in my lap and take a nap; In her mind, reading or using my computer is never an acceptable reason for me to be in the rocking chair).
She “talks” to me when I come home and I talk back to her. This is the time where I get a few minutes of what I call cat-therapy where I rub her and pet her and scratch her head and begin to forget about what was bothering me that day. It’s very beneficial as a relaxation tool and serves to re-assure both of us of the other one’s constancy and commitment. (Roswell was left in the woods with her kittens at less than one year of age and has some obvious abandonment issues as manifest in how she interacts with me.) After a few minutes I can go about my business and count on her to hop into my lap—or more likely, try and lay on my keyboard and mouse—at some point during the evening.
She usually doesn’t sleep with me unless it is Winter, and then only during an especially cold night. But if I have a woman spend the night she will be right there on the bed trying to get between the two of us. Most of my girlfriends have taken a liking to Roswell, and they and she eventually come to an understanding of how to “share” me in bed.
I agree with most of the men in the article and the reasons they give as to why they own cats. From their better suitability for living in an urban environment to their independent-but-needy ways, cats make great pets and companions. But if I had a brownstone with a back-yard all to myself you can be sure I would have a dog as well. (But the dog would know Roswell has rule over the place.)
- – - – -
And for the record, I don’t keep any pictures of Roswell on my desk at work (as does one of the guys in the article) but I do carry a picture of her in my wallet from shortly after I first got her (along with pictures of my two young nieces).