Don’t Tell Me My Cats Are Not My Children

Photo by Priscilla Du Preez on Unsplash

Yep, I’m one of those people.

My cats are my children and nobody can ever tell me any different.

Just like some people love their human children with every bone in their body, my love is reserved solely for my fluffy kitty friends (and my husband who co-parents them with me).

Our cats are a few months apart in age but we rescued them both as kittens and played a part in hand-rearing them. I even had the honour of helping our first cat, Annie, do her first poop. And I’m eternally, unashamedly proud of that.

But there’s so many more reasons why these cats are like kids to me.

So let’s get to it.

I feed them and give them water

A simple thing but valid all the same. Just like you have to feed a baby at set times, the same goes for the cats. And they’ll remind me by crying at me and following me all over the house if I forget.

I clean up their poop

And I examine it to try to figure out who’s is who’s. If they do a solid one, I tell them ‘good job’.

And I clean up their puke

Which happens more often than you’d think. After 4 years, I still can’t quite get the balance right of how much they should be eating. And it always comes back to haunt me. On the carpet, in the bath, on the sofa…

I tuck them into bed

Sometimes they’ll lie on my side of the bed so instead of carting them out, I tuck them in instead. They’re too just too darn cute to move. Eventually though, I’ll carry them through to their own bed just like you would do with a human child.

I cuddle and kiss them until they squirm away

They’re like “Ugh Mum, get off me!” And I’m like, “just one more squeeze!” They love it really.

I shout at them when they’re naughty

Which is near enough most of the time. They fight with each other or try to steal treats from the drawer so I give them a good talking to. They don’t tend to listen. And they haven’t quite grasped the concept of a ‘time out.’

I buy them countless toys that they don’t play with

They have one favourite toy each that they carry round all day every day. That or they prefer to play with my hair bobbles and other interesting objects around the house that they definitely shouldn’t chew.

They cost us a fortune

Last year, our second cat, Ace, got really sick and ended up in the vets for 5 days. Then the following week, Annie got sick and was prescribed antibiotics. Lets just say the vet bill wasn’t too pretty.

Me and my husband refer to ourselves as Mum and Dad in front of them

And I’ve even received a Mother’s Day Card signed by the cats. I suspect they may not have bought it themselves seeing as they’re not allowed to leave the house.

And our parents refer to them as their grandchildren

They even get presents and stockings at Christmas. And if we’re going round to the in-laws for Christmas dinner, the cats come with us. Because, you know, they’re part of the family.

“What greater love than the love of a cat.” ~ Charles Dickens

So the next time you try to tell me my cats aren’t my children, come step into my house and witness this family first hand. Because whether it’s just me and my hubby or us and our felines, we are exactly that: a family. So lets quit all the comparisons and appreciate love in all its forms, pets and all!

Freelance writer, procrastinator, and lover of cats. Avid traveller pre-lockdown. Future best-selling novelist post-lockdown🤞 Find me at

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