So it turns out my cat is a lesbian.
Not that there's anything wrong with that. But you've got to admit it's
a lot to take in.
Jessica Burgess
Clearly Unedited
When Gray Cat first turned up on my doorstep a few months ago, hungry
and cute, I was happy to take care of her and Monty, another stray. I
put collars on them and fed them Meow Mix.
Then one day, a tiny, striped stray kitty ambled along and helped
herself to a rather large serving of Meow Mix. Monty was understandably
indignant.
But Gray Cat was in love. Instantly. Deeply. She rushed up to the new
cat (who I dubbed Snarfy) and snuggled against her feverishly.
From that moment, she has barely left Snarfy's side, and even sleeps
draped on top of her. (Which is kind of a risqué image, and I apologize.
But my journalistic integrity insists I relay this accurately.)
Please don't think I am intolerant. I am definitely a friend of Friends
of Dorothy. In fact, I am often called that rhymey term for women who
habitually befriend gay men (but I don't think I am allowed to say it in
print).
But it's still a shock when your female kitty cruises the veterinarian's
waiting room for cats who are there for spaying, not neutering.
I called around, looking for a local chapter of PFLAGC (Parents and
Friends of Lesbian and Gay Cats), but got hung up on a lot.
I Googled "lesbian cats" to find some educational resources, but after
seeing the results I quickly shut down my browser so I wouldn't be fired.
Finally, I decided that I was fine with this. Gray Cat is still the same
sweet kitty no matter whom she snuggles with when she sleeps.
Naturally, Snarfy moved right in after their first date.
So now I have three cats. And I still need to get Snarfy fixed.
On second thought, maybe that won't be necessary.
Jessica is taking a lot of Claritin these days. E-mail her at
jburgess@quickdfw.com.
