Pets are the Best

Seraphina, my ten-month-old kitten, is curled up next to me right now, an eight-pound ball of calico fluff snoozing peacefully away.  I've had her for a little over three months now; my boyfriend got her for me from the SPCA as one of my Christmas presents.  I had been stalking the SPCA website for several months prior to that, googly-eyed over the adorable animals, obsessed with the idea of getting a pet.  I have a one-bedroom apartment (that actually doesn't allow dogs or cats, whoops...) so a dog was really out of the question.  I figured that a cat might be do-able, though -- small, quiet, and strictly indoor.  And so far, so good.  The only damage Phina has done is to my couch (which she has clearly decided is the only acceptable scratching post).  And although she is actually quite vocal, I'm pretty sure that her expressive mewing isn't actually audible outside my apartment.

But with a little cat comes big responsibility, let me tell you.  In the relatively short period of time that I've had her, I've spent hundreds of dollars on food, kitty litter, toys, and (primarily) vet bills.  She's just recently gotten over a ringworm infection that landed her in the vet every week for a month for medicated baths (after which she had to air dry all day with a cone on her head).  And before that, I had to give her an oral antibiotic (which she hated) twice a day for a couple weeks to treat a fever and poor appetite.  This was no easy task.  I had to wrap her up in a towel like a kitty-burrito and force the medicine in her mouth as she squirmed and cried and buried her head.  It was torture.  But, we got through it, and she finally seems to be thriving.

The reason I'm sharing all of this, however, is because I've come to the realization that for someone who struggles with chronic, mild to moderate depression (as I have for years), having a pet can be a real mood-lifter.  Not only is Phina cute and quirky and fun to take pictures of, but she is also a real, living, breathing thing that depends on me for, well, everything.  And if I do a good job, I reap the benefits of having a furry companion who shows me affection and follows me around my home and makes me chuckle with her antics.  Don't get me wrong, I haven't exactly reveled in shoveling out money to make her healthy, but it certainly has made me become more invested in the well-being of this creature.  The ample time I've spent transporting her to and from the vet and attempting to squirt medicine into her mouth and researching anything and everything about cat behavior online would have otherwise been spent doing, well, what exactly?  Probably nothing productive.  Napping, most likely.  Or mindlessly perusing celebrity gossip blogs.  At this point in my life, as I flounder anxiously between finishing college and starting a full-time job, having a pet to take care of has given me something very tangible to focus my energy on and a resultant sense of accomplishment.  And as anyone who has ever been depressed knows, feeling like you've accomplished even the smallest task can sometimes feel like a pretty big deal.

Seraphina.  Pretty cute, huh?