Youth Day 2020, with the Embassy of Ireland, South Africa
It was a simple, offhand statement, brushed off casually as the conversation
continued onwards. “You remind me of a cat.” How? Why? There hadn’t been a
need for the statement, it meant nothing in the grand scheme of things, and yet it
remained in my mind as I observed it from every angle.
It meant nothing to the person who said it, just a casual remark, and yet as the days
went on I found how accurate the statement actually appeared to be.
“You remind me of a cat.”
Cats are certainly something, especially in our modern age. They are wonderful
household pets, praised for centuries, still adored so many generations later. What
about that relates to me?
“Why are you so quiet?” “Why do you always need to plan something?” “Why are
you so cold?” “Why won’t you hug anyone?”
Why does no one ask these questions of cats? They do the same. Cats are aloof
creatures, solitary, preferring to do as they please and initiate contact only when they
want it.
“You remind me of a cat.”
Is it in those ways only, negative traits attributed to me that are just brushed off as
normal when it comes to cats?
Cats enjoy structure, as I’ve discovered. They prefer to know what’s coming in a day,
set times for certain activities, it’s less stress inducing when they know what’s
coming. I relate to certain aspects of that, I’ve never been a spontaneous person.
Perhaps that’s why I’m considered boring.
That’s just it, isn’t it? Cats aren’t exciting in the grand scheme of things, they’re
repetitive and lonesome, only desiring someone’s presence but not allowing contact
unless they themselves initiate it. They’re predictable.
Maybe that’s why I relate to them.
In a world where I’m a cat, everyone else seems like a dog. Boisterous, loud, always
bustling with energy. I don’t understand it, I don't know if I ever will because how,
how do they do it? How do the dogs always seem so capable of interacting with
everyone, able to put up with constant affection, always having something to say that
everyone will listen to?
“You remind me of a cat.”
What one, though? There’s so many, with different traits and behaviours.
If I were a cat, I believe I’d be a Russian Blue. They’re known for being quiet and
cautious, preferring only a select few people to be friendly with whilst seeming cold
to everyone else, able to remember even little things others have done to them and
behaving accordingly.
I’ve never been all that fond of people. I got through life easily enough, got my way
through the school years until now, where I’m standing atop a cliff looking down into
the abyss that will be A-Levels followed by university followed by the torrent that is
life, a tidal wave that will bring me under and leave me frantically splashing in the
relentless current. I can swim, I’ve made it this far, but we all know cats don’t like
water.
Russian Blues don’t get along the best with children; they don’t hate them, but it
depends on the cat since they’re rather reserved, another aspect which I find
relatable. Crowds and loud noises are also a huge no, they prefer only a few people
in their life and are extremely loyal to those they connect with.
I guess that’s another aspect I have in common with them. I’ve always been told I’m
a loyal person, and honestly I don’t understand why this is such a revelation. Aren’t
we meant to be loyal to those we care about? Isn’t that the point? What is the
purpose in having friendships if you aren’t going to defend them, be there for them,
just be loyal to them?
It baffles me. Perhaps that’s why I always seemed to care more for my friends than
they cared for me.
“You remind me of a cat.”
It still echoes in my mind for seemingly no reason because so what. Why is it
something to be focused on? More importantly, why is it so important to me?
Perhaps it’s because saying I’m like a cat is easier for people to understand. This is
a world of dogs after all, I’m the weird one who doesn’t like to socialise constantly,
who doesn’t enjoy crowds or spontaneous get togethers or loud noises or anything I
should enjoy.
“You’re boring,” I’ve been told. That also still echoes in my mind occasionally, when
I’m alone in a dark room and clutching my head in my hands as the words scream at
me over the silence of the moon outside.
Cats are boring in the same way that I am. They’re still loved though and, as I’ve
discovered, so am I.
So what if I’m boring to an outsider? A loner who prefers my own space and a quiet
life of monotony rather than going out every weekend to somewhere I’d never enjoy
like the dogs would? It’s my life, I choose what to do with it.
“You remind me of a cat.”
Yet I masqueraded as a dog for so many years, all of my childhood pretending to be
something that I’m not, learning arbitrary cues, learning that wagging your tail is the
only way to signify joy.
It’s not.
Cats use their tail for different meanings, waving it around in the same fashion a dog
would for joy signifies aggression in a cat.
I’m a Russian Blue, never speaking unless I have to and the only ones exempt from
this are those who have gained my loyalty. We speak differently. Sometimes things
get lost in translation.
Dogs are affectionate, always wanting to be close and I just don’t understand why or
how, because cats only enjoy affection on their terms, shying away from cuddles and
touches if they aren’t asked for. The dogs didn’t understand this when I was a child,
so I put up with it to keep up the act that I was just odd, that I’d grow out of it.
“I remind myself of a cat.”
There’s so many similarities, I can see where that person was coming from all those
years ago, but you know what?
I remind myself of a dog, too.
Always needing to be moving, with bright eyes and a love for the little things in life
that others may see as inconsequential. Being so passionate in certain topics,
jumping into them with such fervour that for a moment I feel like the only dog and
everyone else feels like the cats for once. Getting so overjoyed when a friend says
they want to meet up, and actually enjoying the hugs for once as we do whatever we
please, the activities carefully planned out though because at the end of the day
that’s more reassuring to the catlike side of my brain.
And it’s all okay. I can be both. I struggle as a cat would in a world full of dogs, where
it feels like no one understands that I need quiet or I lash out and scratch whoever
touches me. Or sometimes that I get so into topics that others see me as strange
and obsessive.
I don’t need to be defined as either. No one needs to. No child should have to
pretend to be something they’re not, whether it be a cat in a dog world or a dog in a
cat world. This is ever so slowly changing for the better, as more accessibility is
given to the other kids who feel like lost cats, a sanctuary where everything isn’t
quite so loud and unbearable.
