Hello friend, welcome to Scrap Facts. I’m Katherine, and I’m glad you’re here.
By day, I work to combat smoking. In my free time, I write essays to better understand the world around me.
Growing up, we had a Jack Russell growing up named Skip.
I truly loved that little troublemaker. He was a firecracker of energy who loved us so much he tore his poor little ACL jumping up to see us and bolting off for tennis balls. (He got doggy ACL surgery and made a full recovery.)
I loved Skip just as I love many dogs. There is a script for the relationship: You show them love and care, and they provide you unwavering loyalty. Dogs are caring and hyper-perceptive — they’ll notice changes in your mood or health before you. And, and while they remain fairly demanding for attention, they know when to give a little extra love. As you and a dog learn each other’s nuances, your human-canine relationship deepens further — but the essence is fairly predictable.
My love of dogs as a kid is what perhaps made dogs are my role model of choice for how I give love. The “Golden Retriever” partner stereotype exists for a reason, and for better or worse I meet the definition almost perfectly. I love earnestly — so much so that I miss sarcasm, and don’t immediately recognize when others need a break (I need to be explicitly told). Also, I love to dazzle partners with my athletic prowess. (I am not sure this actually impresses them.)
Candid, eager love is a wonderful thing. It’s honest and forthcoming and even reminiscent of childhood love, before any of us had any reason to guard our hearts. Many people enjoy a bit of Golden Retriever love in their lives, whether it is through romantic partners or friends (h/t one of my favorite essays ever by Sarah Todd).
But some people don’t. And to love those individuals, we must learn to love cats.
Like so many people, we adopted a cat over the pandemic. (My spouse is allergic to dogs, and also we recognize that we couldn’t give a dog enough attention with our jobs and lifestyles.) Her name is Penelope, but she has so many nicknames we almost never use her name, and often call her Weenie. She doesn’t care — she doesn’t often answer, because she is a cat.
Weenie tolerates my dog-like affection. She knows that I am the one who feeds her takes care of her, but gets annoyed with me when I want to pet her endlessly. She prefers to snuggle up against my spouse. And yet, I would do anything for her.
Last year, we decided to expand our love of cats by adopting another, Crab Rangoon — or Goonie, as she’s known within our walls. Like Weenie, Goonie also lives her own life.
Earlier this year, Goonie slipped outside into the night. I was worried, but channeled my boundless dog-like love into work: I put up fliers, called local shelters, and paced around the neighborhood with flashlights at dawn and dusk to look for her giant orb-like eyes. We gathered cat traps and put out trails of food and blankets in the backyard. We did Everything Right to get her back.
But Goonie didn’t return. In fact, the one day we almost caught her, she made it very clear she did not want to come home. We cried after she zoomed off into the distance.
Gently, my spouse suggested that perhaps she didn’t want to live inside with us. Perhaps she is an outside kitty, like so many others in our neighborhood. I did not take this suggestion well, seeing it as a rejection of me and all my efforts to provide for her.
Over time, especially on warmer days, I’d see Goonie outside, roaming around on what seemed to be little secret missions. I saw her nibbling on some of the cat food left out for other kitties before going on her way, hiding in bushes or in little nooks around the neighborhood.
After a month, I decided it was time to officially stop hoping for her return and accept that Ben was right: she simply was not built to receive the love we could give her as an indoor cat. I allowed myself to honor our time together, wish her the best, and grieve.
Goonie reminded that no matter how much we love another being, we cannot control what they want and need from us to form any kind of relationship. We may never know what their needs even are, and its not for us to define them — no matter how much we want to fill them.
I vaguely remember learning this when I was dating in my early 20s. I used to take rejections so personally, like it was my fault for being Too Much, and if I just crammed myself into the right-sized box, prospective partners would accept me. Looking back, I realize that of course there was nothing wrong with me, just like there is nothing wrong with dogs.
Now, I think about cat and dog love as I build and maintain friendships. I’m learning that as I grow older, the paths we take diverge and criss cross. If we’re lucky, they intersect again. We’ll never truly know the paths of one another’s journeys — all of us are making them up as we go — and as a result, we can’t predict our needs along the way. Maybe that means that a relationship ends or takes a pause, and its nobody’s fault. If we truly love the person, we must do to so from afar and trust that what we had was right in the moment.
When I originally wrote this essay, I was reflecting on how I could love Goonie in the way she needed as an outdoor kitty by putting out food, water and her favorite treats. But a week ago (39 days later, I counted) she came back. I found her crying outside and she let me scoop her up and give her some wet food. She’s been sleeping in bed with us every night since.
It’s funny — and happy! — to have her back. I took her to the vet to get checked out, and the only thing she really needs is to regain the weight she lost. I can do that! I am so good at opening cans and scooping food. I am a provider.
But I also am aware that maybe, her needs will change over time. It makes me want to protect my heart against the grief I felt previously.
But putting up walls means I block the full outpouring of love I want to give her, too. I don’t know about you, but I’d rather love to the fullest extent of my authentic Golden Retriever capabilities.
What else have I been up to?
Running and reading, mostly.
I have decided that on the first of every month in 2024, I will run a timed mile. I thought this would be a solo endeavor to see my progress over time, but others have always wanted to join! If you’re in the D.C. area and want to join, follow my socials to get deets for the next one on (no joke) April 1.
To see my latest reads, follow me on Storygraph!
I’m currently reading the Six of Crows duology by Leigh Bardugo, and I love it — though I’m choosing to believe it takes place in a universe where every year is equivalent to two on Earth. I’m just not buying that a 17-year-old is the most ruthless gang leader out there.
I also just finished listening to Stay Gold Tolby McSmith. It’s an adorable, cheesy rom com featuring a trans boy and his love interest in high school. I loved it because of how much I was rooting for the leads — everyone deserves to see themselves get a happily ever after ending.
That’s all for now. Stay curious, friend! ❤️
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