Meet Ginny, our cat.
Ginny, like her namesake Ginny Weasley, has a little bit of magic in her. Like most cats she has a little bit of the Devil in her too, which usually comes out when she is pouncing on me and my wife in the middle of the night. But I don’t want to focus on that. Nor do I want to focus on the fact she once helpfully caught a mouse in our apartment (although it was somewhat less helpful that she then smeared mouse blood all along the kitchen floor, which is besides the point, but is an excellent example of why cats make terrible interior decorators, but I digress).
No, what I want to focus on is that she sometimes curls up on my lap, purring and headbutting my phone out of my hand. She doesn’t care whether I am in a depression or not, whether I am feeling alone or not, she is just there. And that helps chase the depression and anxiety away. And anything that can do that is pure fucking magic.
Yesterday was National Cat Day and as usual I’m a little late to the party. Nevertheless I wanted to take a moment to recognize our cat and National Cat Day, even if it is slightly belated. More importantly I wanted to point out that whatever treatment works for you, whether it is meds, therapy, exercise, or four legged friends, it is important that you find that treatment and stick to it (the way my cat sticks to me in the morning when I’m getting ready).