Confessions of a Cat Lady

This was one of Winnie’s favorite places to keep an eye on us. We knew this to be her way of saying, “Approach me and today is the day you die.” She despised everyone but my daughter and me. Her way of making us feel special.

In 2021, the junior U.S. senator in my state—and now Donald Trump’s choice for vice president—had thoughts about Kamala Harris and women who own cats. In recent days, this segment of J.D. Vance’s interview with Fox News has resurfaced like a massive oil spill:

“We’re effectively run in this country via the Democrats, via our corporate oligarchs, by a bunch of childless cat ladies who are miserable at their own lives and the choices that they’ve made and so they want to make the rest of the country miserable too.”

He said what?

“It’s just a basic fact,” he continued. “You look at Kamala Harris, Pete Buttigieg, AOC—the entire future of the Democrats is controlled by people without children. And how does it make any sense that we’ve turned our country over to people that don’t have a direct stake in it.”

There he is, the fellow that Donald Trump says reminds him of “a young Abraham Lincoln.”

Let’s compare.

With malice toward none, with charity for all, with firmness in the right as God gives us to see the right, let us strive on to finish the work we are in to bind up the nation's wounds, to care for him who shall have borne the battle and for his widow and his orphan ~ to do all which may achieve and cherish a just and lasting peace among ourselves and with all nations. - Abraham Lincoln, Second Inaugural Address

We’re effectively run in this country…by a bunch of childless cat ladies who are miserable at their own lives. - J.D. Vance, Fox News

They’re practically twins.

Speaking of twins, but, again, not really. That’s Reggie on the tabletop. He was an easygoing fellow who galloped like a puppy whenever you called his name. Winnie, glaring at me from the floor, would latch onto your face like a Wilton bench vice if she didn’t like how you looked at her. We adopted them as the tiniest of kittens and both lived into their twenties. I loved them in equal measure.

I share this to establish my credentials as a cat lady. I did have children, but I was a single mother when I adopted these kitties. Some candidates have had their opinions about that, too. For years, I had a 2012 quote from Republican presidential candidate Rick Santorum taped to my desktop: “What we have is moms raising children in single-parent households simply breeding more criminals.” Twelve years later, my kids have yet to commit any crimes beyond the egregious offense of not soliciting my advice about everything.

I am now wondering about all that power I could have had to chart the course of our democracy, had I remained child-free. I love my children and have never questioned my choice to have them, except for those two or three moments during their teen years. Just seconds, really, and I had the quickest of answers. Why did I have children? Because I wanted to feel like the worst mother in the world, to quote no one in particular.

I do find it hilarious to suggest that parenthood is what qualifies a person to lead our country. Where is that energy coming from? I ask as a mother who once drove into the after-school line of waiting parents and promptly fell asleep. When the scowling car line commandant—this may not have been her title—banged on my window, I told her I was praying.

To bring us into this century, there is plenty of research to show that the number of women in America who do not have children continues to rise. They have many reasons for being child-free, and not one of them has to do with the desire to own cats. I use the word “own” loosely, as anyone who has lived with a cat knows that to claim possession of a feline is to sound like a royal servant claiming the Queen loves them. We serve at their pleasure and hope for an occasional tail-twitch in our direction. In the rare times when Winnie deemed us worthy of a lap landing, we tried not to breathe.

Yesterday, I opened my phone app to find pictures of Reggie and Winnie. I entered “cat” in the search and this was the first photo that popped up.

This tracks. His name is Walter, our cat-dog. Always crawling or climbing into the dark recesses of our house, frequently requiring a human’s rescue that he never appreciates. Every time we save him, we can almost hear his scoffing as he jitterbugs until he’s airborne to shake off the dust: “Like I needed your help.”

Very cat-like.

Also, look at the resemblance. That’s Reggie on the left, in his first week with us. Ditto, Walter, 28 years later. I’m not saying they’re the same soul, but I do sometimes wonder if Reggie is whispering trouble into Walter’s ear. That would be so like him.

Walter is always on the search for cat ladies walking in our neighborhood. I know this because, like all dog owners, I can read my dog’s mind. Yes, I can. There’s science to prove this, and as soon as I have time to do The Google I will share it.

Walter, looking for cat ladies. Franklin is pretending to care, as big brothers should.

Walter, still looking. There are limits to Franklin’s sibling solidarity.

I know and love many women who do not have children. Inexplicably, some of them have no cats. My friend Sue is one of them. She loves many children, including her 16 nieces and nephews, four great-nieces and several of my grandchildren. Alarmingly, she has no cats. What’s the point of a stereotype if you aren’t willing to live up to it?

We had a long talk about this yesterday. Sue was almost ready to embrace her superpower and adopt a cat. Suddenly, Walter the cat-dog, who had been hiding under the sofa and listening to our every word, climbed onto the back of it and helicoptered into Sue’s lap.

Alexa, play The Circle of Life.

“This,” Sue said, scooping Walter into her arms. “This is my cat.”

She rose from the sofa, donned the white terry robe she wears in the morning and for dramatic film reenactments, and walked out onto our deck. It was raining, slightly, but she was undeterred. Slowly, she lifted Walter over her head. It was just like Rafiki holding up newborn Simba in Disney’s The Lion King. (Or like Cam, when he held up infant Lily in that scene in Modern Family, to the same song.)

The rain stopped. The sun winked. The grass turned into spun gold. And we laughed until we cried. Sure felt good after the week we’ve all had.

All hail the cat-dog lady.