It took me a long time to decide to get a cat, and just as long to adopt after I'd decided.
I'm glad I waited, because it meant that I was as ready as I could be, and because I've ended up with (in my unbiased opinion) the best cat in the world.
His name is Giles, and this is how we became a family.
The main things stopping me from getting a pet of my own (despite pet-sitting frequently and loving it) were the financial cost, the small size of my apartment and my own beliefs that my disability made me a bad pet owner.
About a year ago, I moved to a new — bigger — apartment, which had more room for my wheelchair, and my potential cat. One barrier removed.
The reality is, pets are expensive
Pets are expensive, there's no denying that. I looked carefully at my finances and added the approximate cost of pet food to my monthly budget, as well as the initial cost of things like the adoption fee, a carrier, litter, bowls and toys. With a bit of tweaking and frugality, I was lucky enough to be able to manage it.
Once I'd made the decision to get a cat, I didn't buy those things in one go. I did it gradually — to manage my anxiety and my bank account.
I started with the smaller things: bowls and litter boxes, deciding where to place them so they would be convenient for my future pet without being a trip hazard for me.
I talked to my psychologist and my friends, making lists of pros and cons. Would it be scared of my wheelchair, my spasms? Would it be bored because I rest so much? Would my baseline high anxiety somehow stress the cat?
We decided that it might be scared of my wheelchair, and my oft-shaking legs, but it would acclimatise, and that wasn't reason enough not to adopt. A cat would be the perfect animal, because they rest more than I do.
And I could get toys that a cat could play with independently on days when I didn't have the energy, or I had to go out. As for my anxiety, other people with physical disability and mental illness had pets, so surely I could too?
I knew I had plenty of love to give
I had so much love to give and I was committed to learning as much as I could about cats in order to make sure my potential new housemate had the best possible life. That, my friends told me, was enough.
I knew I wanted a rescue, and an older cat rather than a kitten. I'd read that it generally took longer for older cats to find a home as they're often overlooked in favour of their younger, cuter counterparts.
I knew what it was like to be underestimated, and it hurt my heart to think of all the animals left behind. We would be kin, my cat and I.
Eventually, the day came — Caturday, my friend Melanie and I called it. She met me at the shelter and we walked in together.
The reception was crowded with other prospective pet owners, and my stomach churned with nerves as I filled out the intake forms and waited to be taken to the cat area. What if I couldn't actually afford it? What if none of the cats liked me?
There were several cats at the shelter, and as I read about each of them, one stood out. A three-year-old friendly boy who loved naps. He watched me curiously from one of the cages.
There was a step to get into the cage, so the volunteers picked up this cat and brought him out to me. He stayed close to the volunteer who'd carried him over, not quite sure about me. But I was certain enough for both of us.
I knew Giles was the cat for me
We've been a pair for three months now, and it feels like he's been part of my life forever. I didn't know it was possible to feel as calm as I do when he's sitting next to me or — better yet — curled up on my lap.
Giles is a tabby. He's named after one of my favourite characters from Buffy the Vampire Slayer, a serious librarian who watches over Buffy and protects her, just as my boy does me.
Giles doesn't purr much but he trills often and his favourite place to sit is on my lap. I struggle to lift him on my own (he weighs nearly 6kg) but my friends and neighbours have been happy to help as needed.
[iview teaser]Giles has feline immunodeficiency virus (FIV), so he's immunocompromised and has to stay inside. As an introvert who works from home, that suits me perfectly.
He makes cameos in most of my meetings and has a dedicated fan club of aunts, uncles and non-binary relatives in my friends.
And all of those worries I had about getting a cat? They've disappeared. Sure, the financial cost will be ongoing, but it's one I'll gladly manage in exchange for the unquantifiable joy he brings.
