I Am An Emotional Support Human

The delights of a small gray tabby cat

Three years ago I walked into PetSmart, signed a form, paid fifteen bucks, and went home with a five month old male tabby cat. I got him off of death row as he was to be put down the next day, which is why his adoption fee was only $15.

I had actually chosen a black cat, but I had to go home and get the money, and when I walked back into the store with cash in hand, I saw a man walking out with the black cat in a crate.

“I’m so sorry,” the associate said “he adopted the black cat right before you got back.”

“That’s okay,” I said, smiling. “Obviously we are meant to have the little tabby.”

The paperwork said he was a stray, but I tend to think he was dumped as I’ve seen more than my fair share of kittens being dumped. He was already litter trained, and he did not have the demeanor of a wild cat. In fact, he was quite the pathetic little thing, tiny and vulnerable, in need of being loved.

It was just a few days before Christmas when I brought him home. I’m well aware of the fact that animals aren’t gifts, but I had spent more than a year deciding if we were going to welcome a cat into our home. He was to be an emotional support animal for one of my autistic sons who loves animals.

“Mom, I love you so much,” my son said. “You got me the best gift I ever was given. Only you love me enough to get me my very own cat.” My son, although verbal, didn’t usually say a whole lot, and showed emotion even less.

They bonded immediately and the cat sleeps on the bed with my son, or with my daughters. He doesn’t like being alone, and he snuggles up with someone else or at least lays down in their space to go to sleep.

I’ve never seen a cat who loves hugs, being held, and carried around as much as our sweet boy does.

It’s very obvious that there is Siamese in him, he has the distinct language of the Siamese, and sings the song of his people very well.

“Reouw…”
“Mrauw.”
“Meeeeeeeeoooooooow.”
“Raaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaooooooooooooooooooowwwwwwwwwwwww.”

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