"Your Cat Must Hate You"

“Your cat must hate you.”

I was showing my former retail “boss” photos from my recent travels.

“No he loves me,” not skipping a beat, upbeat, cheerful. Oblivious, or unaware of the venom wouldn’t take hold until the following morning, as I was supposed to be packing for my 10 hour drive.

Instead, I’m writing this post with tears in my eyes, my body’s attempt at dislodging the underlying sadness (and inflicted poison) that usually lays dormant.

I’ve felt it in doses before, when I meet strangers and explain to them how I travel by watching cats, and yes, I have one of my own. Two, actually.

“I could never leave my cat.”

Again, stoic, “I understand.”

That’s been the hardest part of all of this.

I put a picture of a girl holding her cat on my vision board for 2026, “won’t keep us apart” reads the inscription. I’m not sure what the original advertisement is for, but to me, it represents the unbreakable bond between me, and my first born, Meeko, the silver bengal I got when I was just 24 years old.

Meeko’s been the longest relationship I’ve ever had in my life, and he’s been with me through everything.

“That cat needs you” the ironically named vet Dr. Barker once said to me as Meeko and I were moving states for the umpteenth time.

We need each other.

In a session with an animal psychic before leaving the West Village to move into my mom’s she read “he doesn’t understand why you’re moving” to which I started to cry.

“It’s ok” she offered back, reeling back the tidal wave of emotions I felt associated with moving.

Other people let me off the hook with “he’s just a cat, he’ll be fine.”

Those who understand me the most lean into the spiritual connection, like how love travels distances and how you can communicate with your animals even when physically separated.

I wear a silver cheetah necklace when I travel.

This trip, I’m going to meet my other son, Spider, a brown bengal who I got to keep Meeko company when I traveled, a plan that backfired so spectacularly that it caused my initial insecurities around being a bad cat mom.

When I really feel safe with you, I’ll tell you the truth.

I believe that animals have their own soul contracts, aka their own purpose for being here. I truly believe that my cats were in part, sent to heal the relationship I have with each of my divorced parents. Or, in a less self centered perspective, my Dad and Mom each have their own destined relationship with Meeko and Spider.

My Dad and I talk every single day, a lot of it about Spider, who lives with him. Spider is his phone background, and I’d estimate that 75% of my Dad’s life revolves around Spider.

Spider is also the direct cause me to getting in the car and driving 10 hours at least twice a year.

The same has happened with Meeko and my mom, my little silver anchor, responsible for so much mischief and chaos… and even more love. Again, it depends on who you ask. My mom would scoff with an “ugh.”

My reiki expert friend assured me “oh, she loves every minute of it”

My mom sings to Meeko, and often we sing to him together on facetime or in person, a chorus of

“Silverback….. silverback”

or

“Muscle, Muscle cat.. I wanna be a muscle cat”

My personal contribution is

“Meeko’s mommy’s baby, Meeko’s big and strong, Mommy loves her Meeko, Grandma loves her Meeko…”

Those calls wouldn’t happen if it weren’t for Meeko.

I once did a future self meditation, where I sat across from my “future self” in an empty seat with a cup of tea and she said to me “you better enjoy that little cat in front of you” when all I wanted to ask her was questions about how to make my business successful.

I’ve never forgotten that moment.

I don’t think bad cat moms think like that.

Now, it’s time to pack and put on my necklace.

Bon Voyage.