the cats

When I was younger, in my dad’s first place after the divorce, I had a leopard gecko named Carly. She sat in my room, catching and eating crickets, which I loved to watch her do. Maybe even more than that, I loved going to Petsmart with Dad to get said crickets because it meant I could sneak away to go see the adoptable cats a few aisles over.

Every single time, without fail, there was a cat that I just really needed. And I really truly believe that there was something about each one that I felt I needed to love. It was never the same one, which make sense in retrospect– it seems I’ve always been able to fall in love with anyone or anything that has needed me. It became a thing for Dad and I: I’d beg him for a cat and he’d say no, which I knew from the beginning he would. It was a bit, really– not entirely uncommon for the standup comedian and his daughter.

Dad wouldn’t often eat other people’s homecooked meals. This was for likely many reasons, not the least of which his evident neurodivergence*, but the most commonly cited one was “cats on the counter.”

*I can diagnose him, okay? As the 26 year-old woman with ADHD so prevalent I can’t imagine how it went undetected for 22 years, I can diagnose the man who gave it to me.

“What if they don’t have cats, Dad?” my brother Jake and I would goad him.

“A cat could’ve come in through the window while they were cooking and got on the counter.”

Dad was meticulous about his place too, in a way cats likely wouldn’t have aligned with. He did have a moment where he thought having a duck would be cool, and he fed a squirrel peanuts on the deck of his condo until it started shitting on his patio table, so maybe a cat would’ve been fine, but I think if he really were to get a four-legged pel, it would’ve been a yellow lab.

***

In my first Boston apartment, in the August of 2022, I babysat my best friend’s cat, Hazel. My mom said she saw a real change in me, that I seemed better for the first time since my dad passed in January of that year. I didn’t feel it so much just yet– I didn’t really feel much of anything– but I knew I loved having Hazel with me.

In 2023, I met Remy: the cat I credit as the reason I have cats of my own. My boyfriend at the time had a roommate who had Remy, a 17 year-old grey tabby who had a lot of opinions and made them known through a crunchy-sounding meow. The first night I met Remy, I (drunkenly) let her play with my wet hair, with no regard for the safety of my face. After that, I was obsessed. My sister sent me treats for Remy (who notoriously only liked chicken skin, butter, and cheese) and subsequently, I started getting treats auto-delivered for her. I loved when she would meow at the door in the mornings and sit with me at nights. The thought of having a cat of my own seemed like an absolute dream– though I did hesitate (and maybe cry a little) because I knew it would mean less time with Remy. Though I was in an apartment where I couldn’t have a cat, I frequently opened PetFinder and looked at the cats that needed homes, if I could do so before my boyfriend saw. (He would make me stop because I would cry at the cats’ pictures.) (Fair point, honestly.)

In February 2024, when I started looking seriously, I was on Petfinder everyday it seemed like. If someone had asked why, I would’ve said it took over the obsessive part of my brain, and I needed to make sure I was searching thoroughly. But really, more than that, I think I was scared of what my life would turn to if I were living entirely alone. I knew that I had the tendency to hole up and I knew my depression thrived on that.

At some point, probably after going onto Petfinder for the umpteenth time, I remembered PetSmart had adoptable cats, though I’m not sure how my inner child let me forget it. I think part of me liked how full circle it would be to get a cat from PetSmart, how perfectly written it would be. So one morning, I looked at PetSmart cats on my laptop. The website confused me so I didn’t get far, but I saw two orange boy cats that had to be adopted together.

Two cats might be a bit much, I thought.

I returned to Petfinder because it was easier to use, but continued to look almost daily. Once I had my move-in date for my cat-friendly apartment, I felt more able to fill out an adoption application. My brain, however, did not feel able to do that, at all. The applications were long and asked a lot of questions, for good reason, I know, but the amount of focus required is not something I often possess. My plan was to apply to a shelter with enough kittens that I was interested in, so I wasn’t filling out a whole application just to find out the kitten I wanted had been adopted.

After more time on Petfinder, I applied to As Sweet as a Peach Rescue. As Sweet as a Peach had a policy that they would only adopt kittens in pairs, and at some point along the way I decided I’d be fine with that. It would make it easier if I had to leave them.

The application asked which kittens I was interested in and as “all of them” wasn’t an answer, I scrolled through, making a list of kittens that would work for my lifestyle, and there, in their orange glory, were the two kittens I had seen on the PetSmart website. I immediately figured it was a mistake and the kittens had been adopted already, as it had been a few weeks at least and they were perfect. Still, I put them on my adoption application on the event I was wrong.

A few days later, I received a call from Christina who worked at the shelter. She told me that three out of the five pairs of kittens I listed on my application had already been adopted. She said if I wanted information on one of the remaining pairs of kittens, she would get it for me, but she thought I’d really fit well with Tom and Luka – the two orange boys.

And immediately, I was sold. By the end of the 30 minute phone call we had (and probably by five minutes in, if we’re being honest), I knew these were my cats.

That afternoon, my then-boyfriend and I brainstormed names before I landed on Simon, of Paul Simon, and Oscar, of Oscar Wilde and Oscar Madison, from The Odd Couple.

Now, all it took for them to really be my cats was for them to be transported to me. As Sweet as a Peach uses out-of-state fosters so I knew I wouldn’t be able to meet them before adopting them, but these cats happened to be in Puerto Rico.

I remember checking ticket prices, semi-joking to my mom that we could go and bring them back to Boston. I really wanted to get them home.

Originally, we had found a pair of travelers to take my boys on March 27. It was a while until then, but it would give me time to move in March 9th, settle in, and then welcome them home. It didn’t end up panning out and we rescheduled for April 10th.

That month, from March 9th to April 10th, ended up being one of the hardest in my life. The year had already not been kind to me and my job ended up taking a turn and I lost two people so special and important to me. In depressions before, I’d existed merely on routine, autopiloting through life until I came out of it. But now, I had none. In a new place, and I was newly living alone. The only thing I’d established for myself was that every night, I’d hang out with the penjamin and the cast of Vanderpump Rules.

On the evening of April 5th, I recognized with absolute certainty that the depression was back. I knew the next day, my 26th birthday, would be just the same. I wished so badly the kittens were already here, to pull me out of this.

Four days later, they were. They were perfect. In absolutely every way, they were perfect. But they didn’t cure my depression.

Over the next few months, my depression grew deeper and stuck around longer than it ever had. I had stopped living and started surviving. I was on autopilot and could no longer remember a time when I wasn’t. All I could do was continue on in the pattern until I had the energy to pull myself out of it. So, my routine of work, edible, Vanderpump Rules was mostly unchanged. I did as much as I could for Simon and Oscar but it never felt like enough to me. I felt they deserved more but I could never give it because my mind, body, and soul were too tired. But Simon started sleeping by my head. Oscar jumped in his stroller to ask to go for walks. Simon made biscuits on my face while we watched TV. Oscar followed me if I left the living room when we all sat together every night. They took what I could give and gave me infinite love back.

Their love has taken a woman who settled for having people in her life who felt neutral at best about her, and changed her to a woman who knows how warm a strong, undeniable love feels and refuses to substitute it with indifference ever again.

The same thing Mike Guida always made sure I knew.

***

Even as I sit here, still in some offshoot of that depression, I know Simon and Oscar have changed my life. They have shown me how much love I can have in my life and they’ve allowed me to notice how much love I can give, as I sit surrounded by every cat toy in the world, having just returned from taking Oscar for a walk in his stroller.

I think Dad knew that this year would be hard for me. I think he knew that I was missing what his unconditional love felt like. I think he knew I would see him in their fur of his favorite color.

To the many cats that have changed my life, my two best little friends and my reason for waking up each morning, my dad, and my own strength: I am so grateful for you.

***

For more Simon & Oscar content, follow us at @cat.workorange on Instagram. (For the record, I vowed to never become a pet Instagram person, but they’re just way too cute)