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The year 2020 now has a place etched in history – forever synonymous with the COVID-19 pandemic. For most of us – including me – it will forever be a timestamp. Our lives now have the demarcation periods of Pre-Covid and Post-Covid. 

I have quite a few of these comparisons.

Pre-Covid, I never left the house without makeup. Post-Covid, I haven’t worn foundation in years.

Pre-Covid, I went into the grocery store. Post-Covid, online grocery shopping and drive-up delivery. Although it existed for years, I always assumed it existed for a different class of people. I didn’t realize it was affordable and convenient and actually budget-saving, because I could shop while looking at my fridge and pantry.

Pre-Covid, I never had the opportunity to remote work. During-Covid (and soon post-Covid), I appreciated being able to work and earn money, while still being home to cook dinner, throw in a load of laundry – the best of both worlds. 

Pre-Covid, I thought that I would have to either get on a plane or take a road trip in order to meet with people from around the country and world. Post-Covid, I can do it with ease from my kitchen. It always existed, but I didn’t realize how easy it is. I now have friendships with and have earned money from people I’ve only met virtually (I’m a life coach, among other things).

Pre-Covid, I hated buffets. Post-Covid – I still hate buffets! (Clearly, some things remain the same.) I don’t like my food sitting in open air, people do not practice good hygiene, and there’s no need to eat that much food at one time.

Pre-Covid, I was a self-proclaimed dog lover and a never-cat person. I would have never been a cat mom. I always thought that cats were weird, and extremely standoffish. My first job, when I was between 10 and 16, was to take care of my neighbor’s cats when they went on vacation. I made money feeding these cats, which consisted of my sister and I going into their garage, opening a can of food, changing their water, and then doing it again in the afternoon or evening, never seeing the cats. I never saw these creatures that I was “taking care of.” 

In comparison, on my tenth birthday, I was given a puppy. Her name was Amanda; this lovable beagle wagged her tail, barked and slept with me. The cats just seemed like anti-pets.

But post-Covid, I can’t imagine my life without our beloved tuxedo cat (which is not an actual breed of cat, but a sophisticated way of saying that he is black and white)!

How did this happen? 

Picture it: May of 2020, I sit on my computer talking to my therapist during a telehealth appointment. During the hour-long appointment, my son Alex, a seven-year-old “only-child,” interrupts the appointment three times. He asks:

“Mom, can I have a cookie?” 

“Mom, where are the cookies?”  

“Mom, I asked for one, but can I have two?”

After the third interruption – okay, after the first interruption – I sigh, roll my eyes, and place my head in my hands. Clearly aggravated! My therapist witnesses these interruptions and laughs. Then, she puts on her counseling hat and asks me if I have ever considered getting a pet to keep my son company. 

By that time, Alex’s pediatrician had also mentioned getting a pet to teach my son responsibility, and to give him a playmate. The problem was that I was a dog lover, and my dear sweet son is allergic to dogs. Also, we lived in an apartment at the time that had a no-pets policy. 

Pre-Covid, I would never think of violating any rule, law, or policy. However, in this timeframe during the pandemic, being shut-in, isolated and masked-up was taking its toll on both of us. I threw caution to the wind.

I mentioned to Alex that we were going to adopt a cat, and his eyes lit up! The expression on his face, and the joy in his heart solidified my decision. I figured that it wouldn’t be hard to hide a cat because my landlord didn’t make frequent trips to our apartment anyway. I could easily put a cat in a carrier and use a closet as a hiding place.

I had never adopted a cat before. As an adult, I had never adopted any animal. I assumed that the process would be easy, because so many animals were in need. But, apparently every other therapist and pediatrician must have told their clients to get a pet during the pandemic! I contacted three places, and was put on a notification list to be called whenever they had animals available. 

I waited two months with no call back, before a friend of mine suggested that we try the Connecticut Humane Society in Newington. They had five or six cats on their website. We only needed one!

On their website, there are pictures and small bios of all of the animals that are available for adoption. We’re in a virtual world at that time, so I’m pretty used to seeing things virtually. Scrolling through the pics, he stood out. I thought, “that’s him.” I could tell enough from his picture that he would be a perfect fit for our family. 

We had the opportunity to do a meet and greet. These were the days we were all masked up and buzzing into buildings. We’re waiting to get buzzed in, and there was another lady there as well. She’s elderly, talking about how she’s had cats for the last 60 years but still has a book about cats because she said she’s never learned them. At that moment I wanted to turn around and get back in the car – if this lady has had cats for 60 years and still needs a book, I thought “what am I getting myself into?”

But we stayed, and Alex and I went into the room where they had the cat — named Justin. At first, dog person that I am, I called him an “it” – “it’s there, oh that’s what it looks like in person.” Justin did not immediately come up to us and rub his head on us, none of the cat affections. We basically sat and watched how he played – he went from scratching on the scratcher to playing with a ball to climbing to walking around. 

After about 10 minutes, Alex had to use the bathroom. As soon as he leaves the little room, Justin goes to the door and meows. It was the cutest thing. 

When Alex came back into the room, I told him Justin was looking for him, that he meowed after him. We took Justin home that day.

They gave me a packet of what we needed: litter box, litter, scratcher, toys, food. They said keep Justin in one room for a while, which would be Alex’s room because it was “his” cat. We brought him into the room, closed the door, and let him out of the box carrier that they gave us. Justin immediately runs under the bed. Eventually, it’s time to go to bed; for some reason, Alex wasn’t sleeping in his room that night, so Justin would have it to himself. 

I say, “goodnight, cat,” and close the door. Everyone told me that cats are so independent, so I think, ok, he’ll be fine. Immediately, Justin is meowing and meowing. I open Alex’s bedroom door, and Justin comes out of the room, jumps up on my bed, curls into the perfect circle and goes to sleep. I had no idea cats did that. That was our first night together. 

In the time since then, life has happened, as it does. Alex and I have had Covid three times. My sister, who was my best friend, passed away. My half-brother passed away. On and on. Heavy grieving. But whatever the reason that knocks me or Alex out on the sofa or in bed, Justin is right there next to us. I remember one particular moment I was on my knees praying with my head under a blanket, and Justin comes to snuggle under the blanket.

He has changed how Alex looks out for someone else – there is a level of responsibility when it comes to feeding and changing his water. (I have litter box duty, no surprise there.) I’ve experienced Justin’s independence, yes, but also his love and affection. They tell me that when I pull in the driveway, he will meow and stand by a door or a window, meowing until I come in the front door. 

Justin has taught me that I was wrong about cats, and probably about most animals and what they are capable of. When I think of a forest or the jungle and the “wild animals,” I think they’re not so wild. They’re not domesticated, but they do have structure in their lives, likes and dislikes, they’re able to show emotion towards each other. They’re able to feel pain, fear, even peace. When my cat feels peace, you see it. 

Pre-Covid, I started to write a book (in 2015); also Pre-covid, I finished it (three years later). Post-Covid, I published it! If I were to edit or redo it now, there are things I would add. There would be a chapter, “What I’m Learning About Life From My Cat,” including: 

It’s ok to be selfish. 

It’s ok to sleep.

You don’t have to work yourself to death. 

Be there for people in their time of need, even if you don’t say anything.

You don’t have to yell or roar to get your point across, a simple meow will do.

You don’t have to change to fit in.

Sometimes looking out the window and watching birds is all the energy you have, and that’s ok. 

I can be helpful to you without hurting me. 

There’s more that unites us than divides us. 

Your tribe will find you, just be yourself. (Across the street from where we live, a family has all these outdoor cats. Justin sometimes sits in the basement windows for hours. One day I saw one of the neighbor’s cats outside one of those windows. I  thought he and Justin were friends, not realizing that cats are territorial and it’s more about that. But here’s an indoor cat, who does not go outside, in a basement window, and yet other cats found him, they know he’s there. He didn’t have to do anything but be there.)

Cats are known for stubbornness or independence, and I am learning more of both. As someone who was a people-pleaser, sometimes malleable to other people’s whims, I see how this cat decides what he wants in his life. I’ve taken a page out of his book, realizing that I don’t have to be molded to everyone’s whims. If a cat can do it, so can I.

And I know there will be more lessons, as I sit here thinking of adopting a second cat.

Learn about Ann-Gela’s book, Let Me Tell You What I Know

To reach Ann-Gela directly: anngieholloway@gmail.com or via FaceBook

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