Cat Person 2: Adventures in Feline Romance

Analyzing societal history of projecting romance onto our children, and humanity onto our pets

Our cat might have a boyfriend.

We’re not entirely sure that he’s a boy, actually, but he’s a stray orange cat, and every piece of media that we’ve absorbed growing up has led us to believe that stray orange cats are boy cats, and they often form romances with pampered female indoor cats.

Projecting romantic interest onto our cat is a weird thing to do, considering that when she got her, Michele paid a large sum of money to make sure Minerva (Mini to her friends) would never engage in the physical act of love with another cat – male or female, stray or domesticated.

I regularly spot the cat we’ve dubbed Adventure Cat – borrowing a name from the cat our friends see scaling the neighbors’ roofs in their neighborhood, making it more of a title than a name really. He sleeps in a little nest he’s forged for himself in the abandoned lot behind my house. As I work at my desk, I can see him walking around out there, his bright orange fur clashing against the green of the weedy overgrowth.

A few days ago I heard Mini meowing with a question mark. It was a different meow from “I am bored” or “I am hungry” or “there’s a bug” or “Marci [other cat] is being annoying.” This had real intent and interest.

I went downstairs to see what was up, and caught a glimpse of Adventure Cat up against our back window, exchanging eyes with Mini. I don’t know how long he had been there. It was during an especially intense period of rain, so maybe he was just using the overhang to stay dry for a minute and lucked into the meet-cute. He split when he saw me, climbing over our back fence like an American Ninja Warrior.

I told Michele about it, and after we both expressed our hopes that Adventure Cat found another dry spot to hang out, we joked that Mini has a boyfriend.

We don’t have kids. We’re not “Cat Mom/Dad” people necessarily either, but when you don’t have human children but do own cats, you sort of become Cat Dad and Cat Mom by default, which means you might use your cats as proxies for children at times, forcing them into rites of passage that would otherwise be reserved for human children.

Parents sometimes project romance onto their children’s platonic friendships. I know when I was a kid I’d sometimes mention someone at school who happened to have a traditionally feminine name, and my mom would cock her eyebrow – she can do this with Dwayne-The Rock-Johnson-level ability to this day – and would say something along the lines of, “[Girl’s Name], huh?” or “Who’s [Girl’s Name]?”

You got me, Mom. I’m 12 and we’re in love. Well, not so much in love as a situationship.

Or, you have those parents who talk about their kid’s boyfriend/girlfriend at daycare because they happen to flop down in the same vicinity relatively often.

With that in mind, I didn’t want to fall into the habit of calling Adventure Cat Mini’s boyfriend. For one, we don’t know what Mini is into. Second, I knew from my own adolescent irritation that it wouldn’t be fair to just assume that any attention my cat gives a member of the opposite(?) sex is for romantic reasons. She’s a nice cat! She loves making friends.

I felt the need to establish this out loud, as if we were parents of human children and I needed to make sure we were on the same page of how we were verbalizing something in our child’s life to make sure that everything was as healthy as can be.

Days went by, and I’d see Adventure Cat mulling around in the sun behind the house as I worked. He never hopped the fence again, though, at least when I was looking. I would go out of my way to make sure he felt comfortable out there, like pss-pssing at him from over the fence and even going as far as slow blinking at him on occasion, making sure he knew that I was not only not a threat, but a cool cat-friendly guy whose yard he could jump into on occasion. Beer’s in the cooler, just give me your keys.

After being so serious about how I didn’t want to project romance onto this relationship – also aware that it’s Crazy Person behavior to project it onto a relationship between two cats – I found myself rooting for Mini and Adventure Cat to keep the flame kindled.

Artist’s rendering of Mini and Adventure Cat (via YouTube)

And just as I came to terms with my parent-like treatment of my cat and her label-less relationship, I remembered that, thanks to Cat Years, I was less projecting romance onto a young cat, and more pushing for a much older woman to pursue companionship in her third act.

Did you know the Golden Girls of the eponymous sitcom were only supposed to be in their 50s? Blanche, the most, let’s say, romantically active of the Golden Girls, was only 53 at the start of the show, and she was absolutely cleaning up with dudes. But that was sort of the joke at the time. The defining idiosyncrasy. Dorothy and Rose were both supposed to be 55. The joke, of course, was that a woman of that age who was either divorced or widowed would still seek out male company both serious and casual. An incredible concept at the time, I’m sure.

The point I’m making, I guess, is that times have changed since that show’s heyday, and the perception of a person in their “golden years” seeking out romance and companionship is different.

Mini is 10 in human years, meaning that, according to the Purina website, she’s around 56. She would have been the oldest Golden Girl aside from Sofia (played by Estelle Getty, who was a year younger than her on-screen daughter, Bea Arthur), but in 2024 she should not be expected to live out her days as some sort of Aunt Patty/Aunt Selma-type spinster (who, per Google, are in their 40s, though smoking hasn’t done them any favors.)

In this realization, I was both the parent of Mini, and also the kid in every RomCom starring Richard Gere and/or Diane Lane who encourages their widowed/divorced parent to get back out there in the hopes of finding companionship and happiness for their third act of life.

I was Shroedinger’s Cat Parent, simultaneously two different relationships.

In both of these scenarios, though, I don’t know if Adventure Cat is good enough for Mini. He’s a little too lax about it all, and it seems like he only comes around when he wants something (shelter from the rain). I watch him from my office window, sleeping, occasionally hunting bugs and mice, and think, “Is this the kind of guy I want my cat to be involved with?” I think she can do better.

And then I snap out of it, take a deep breath, and walk outside. Maybe I call one of my human friends on the phone.

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Today’s Snakes and Sparklers musical guest is Spiritual Cramp.