History.

I used to make fun of cat ladies. My neighbor Susan used to hang out in the yard between our red brick apartment buildings with her cat Snowball on a leash. She'd smoke her cigarette and walk her kitty in the 10x10' square of a city land, humming a tune. Snowball seemed to enjoy himself. He's hunker down in the little blue harness and hunt flies and beetles. He looked a little uncomfortable, but delighted to be outside. Susan had crazy white hair and lived only with Snowball and as I learned more about the cat lady next door I learned more about my own deep, intense fear of growing old alone. Every break-up I went through I would have this vision of myself in my eighties, wrinkly and messy, my hair wild and white walking ten cats on leashes, all meowing and scurrying about. When I thought for sure I had sworn off love, this vision would always motivate me to get back in the saddle and start dating again.

I've realized over the years that the crazy cat lady persona is slapped onto women so we will just shut up, find a husband, get pregnant and settle down already. It is similar to the “Old Maid” persona, a card game that subtly scares girls into thinking that it is a bad thing to be an old woman. Throughout history women were murdered along with their cat counterparts. Women were accused of witchcraft and executed for practicing and Men killed cats too because they thought women who were withes could magically transform into felines. Eventually because so many cats were killed, the rat population got out of control and disease spread and The Plague broke out killing thousands of people. I call this nature's kharma. Yes, women and cats have suffered greatly throughout history and now we are forever tied.

When I was little, my family had a tuxedo cat named Critter. She was a testy, surly, little cat. She hunted mice and no one could ever cuddle her. She had kittens in the hallway of my parent's old house and attacked me and my mom. We were trapped in the bathroom for hours. Ever since then, I considered myself more of a dog person. I loved how dogs always adored me and worshiped the ground I walked on. I was a proud dog person for many many years, and planned my future around having dogs... and that is when I met Scout.

Scout (named after the character in To Kill a Mockingbird) was affectionately named "Scouty" or "Scouters". She was a small white cat that belonged to my old roommate. She was a feisty kitten that pecked at anyone who crossed her path. I was nervous about living with a cat who could attack me, but after six months or so, I was in love. Scouters and I had our own little routine and eventually she got so comfortable with me I could pick her up and cuddle her and she wouldn't attack, an amazing feat. Her favorite game was fetch. She would obsessively play fetch with toy mice. She was very smart I taught her how to sit, shake, lie down, and roll over for treats. I was so impressed with this little animal. It was destiny that we met.

When it was time for me to move out, It was hard to leave Scouters. I went to the shelter and bought a kitten of my own. At the time i was dating this lovable little genderqueer who was also VERY into about cats. (Now a requirement to date me.) We both picked out a kitten of our own and did what every good lesbian does: moved in together with our cats and all their accessories (kitty condo and scratching posts).

At the shelter, I met T-rex. She was a teeny-tiny black & white, witchy kitten that was a little slow and sleepy. It was destiny, love at first sight, really. My life stopped and my periphery vision became blurry. We made eye contact through the bars of the cage she was in and I knew that she was mine, and I was hers. I cupped her in my large pillow arms and we've been side by side ever since. I named her Ms. Tee Corrinne Rex (after the feminist artist Tee Corrinne). T-rex has become her trademark name.

My partner chose the sloppy tiger-tabby snoring asleep in the litter box. He was smelly and messy; a little cat-dog. His tiny pink tongue hung out of his mouth and he snored hard in the box, covered in poop. Of course my spunky, boy-ish partner said "I want that one!" The smelly kittenkid was named Bacon Michaelangelous Bit (named after the Buffy character and the breakfast food). He is affectionately known today as Mr. Bit.

Tee and Bit have been brothers ever since.