this, and no angry man in the house.
i am a cat mother now.
We definitely didn’t need another creature in the house. But here we are.
My teenager needed a friend who could sleep on their schoolwork and offer quiet company when things got rough. Also, the 21-year-old is home from uni for the summer, so now there are three people in this old, gnarly Cotswold cottage, all moving through their moods and spaces. So naturally, we added a cat.
She’s adorable. She’s also chaos in fur form. i’m mildly terrified for the vintage Ercol furniture, the linen tablecloths that dress the windows, my peace of mind, but strangely, i’m not scared of her. Not like i thought i would be. i thought she’d be snarky, or scratchy, or snooty in a way that makes you feel stupid. But she’s here, curled up and purring, already part of the emotional furniture.
In case you’re new here, there isn’t an angry man in this house. Just me, my kids at very different stages of becoming themselves, a door that won’t quite close, and now a very small creature who looks at you like she knows all your stuff.
She’s a Scottish Fold, which means she has these little bent-over ears like someone whispered her a secret and they never popped back up. Eleven months old – just old enough to act like she pays rent, just young enough to sprint full speed outside my bedroom door at 3 a.m. for reasons only the moon understands.
She’s also sassy. Like, she’ll stare you down from the top of the stairs and swish her raccoon’s tail as if to say, “You could never.” My teenager adores her. The uni student is obsessed. There’s a shared moodiness between all three of them, like roommates who silently agree to watch bad reality television in peace.
But, misophonia alert — listening to her lick her lady parts might be the worst thing that’s ever happened to my ears. i don’t know what it is about that wet, smacking noise, but it haunts me. i will be haunted forever.
Still. Somehow, i love her.
She’s been here less than 24 hours and has already vanished once: fully, heartbreakingly, gone. We were checking cupboards, behind cushions, and inside gaps in the floorboards, as if we were suddenly in a haunted storybook. Turns out she was under the bed. The bed. A very obvious bed. But for twenty minutes, i believed she’d disintegrated into house dust and i’d failed as a cat mother.
Because that’s the thing. Having a cat is weirdly like having a newborn, but one who refuses to make eye contact when you cry. The responsibility hits you in waves, usually around the time you realise you’ve been watching her breathe just to make sure she’s alive.
And the name debate. Oh, the name debate.
She came to us as Olivia, which i liked mainly because of Olivia Pope (a powerful woman in a trench coat). It kind of fits our vibe and is loosely tied into the Grey’s Anatomy universe. Unfortunately, i was outvoted. Democracy gave us Nova Honey Grey.
Full name: Nova Honey Grey.
Nickname: Nova, obviously.
Likely to be known as: Menace, Paws McGee, and That Little Shit.
Nova is a girl's name of Latin origin. It is derived from “novus,” meaning “new.” Nova is also an astronomic term given to bright stars that appear suddenly in the sky and release powerful energy. It was first used as a girl’s name in the 19th century and is especially popular in Scandinavian nations.
So here we are. My teenager, the uni student, the cat, and me. This tiny family, this chaos-riddled home.
And no angry man in the house.
Not because there was ever shouting, but because i spent years tiptoeing around a crunchier personality. It hit me the other day: i might be too soft for harder ones. i shrink in their company. i play the ‘let’s not piss them off’ game so perfectly it’s become second nature. And i don’t want to live like that anymore.
i don’t want a man inside my bubble unless he can handle my softness, really hold it, protect it, lift it up. i’m done appeasing people who need me to be smaller just so they can get their own way. Honestly, it just makes me cry, goddammit.
If the alternative is becoming an old cat lady, so be it. i will age into arthritis alongside this super cute Scottish Fold, and we’ll both nap without guilt and grow more particular about our blankets.
Just a lot of snacks, soft boundaries, and a surprising amount of peace.
Love,
Lyss (and Nova). x