What it feels like to own a “real” pet for the first time ever

My roommates and I adopted a kitten a few weeks ago.

We made a pact that if and when we do part ways, one of us will take full ownership of the cat. And that person is me.

As I’ve mentioned in a previous post, I’ve never had a “real” pet. (I’m defining a “real” pet as one that you can literally pet. Goldfish and Hard Rock teddy bears do not count.) So you can imagine my intrigue and apprehension that came with jumping aboard this pet-owner train. Questions I asked myself: Is it emotionally worth it? Becoming attached to an animal, who could possibly not give a crap about me in return or inevitably pass away in due time? What if I totally mess her up due to my noviceness? Does this mean I can’t have chocolate out anymore?!

All of this aside, the past two weeks felt like I’ve been reliving my childhood and shaping it into the starry-eyed version I saw on the Disney Channel (I’m referring to the Zoogs Disney Channel, which is pre-Even Stevens and Lizzy McGuire). More Dunkaroos, please.

Captain Daenerys Phoebs Tonks Bluth. (The nerdiest cat in the world)I was never really a huge fan of the felines, as I always preferred playing with dogs. But when I first played with Dany, there was something to her aloofness, curiosity, independence, and random spurts of affection (she snuggled up on my leg the first time I put her on my lap), that made an instant connection. She kind of reminded me of myself, only in cat form. (I tried to put that in a non-creepy, non-douchey way, but there’s really no way around it.) And she never meowed once. Actually, it’s only been recently that she’s become a tad bit vocal, and that’s only if she wants to come into a room. And it’s really hard to ignore it.

But aside from select peeing incidents and gassy upsets, Capt. Dany is incredibly sweet—at least for now.

Here’s to hoping I don’t fuck this up.


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