I really want to know what the problem with being a cat lady is. Or – even worse! – an old cat lady. And even worse than that (perish the thought!) – an old unmarried cat lady. With knitting needles. And rocking chair.
Because who makes the rules? Who says that an unmarried cat lady is a someone who has had a disappointing life? Why should the fact that you’ve not got an old cat-owning man at your side bring stigma?
What if you sit on the battered old rocking chair because your battle wounds ache, you knit with knitting needles that you can throw with deadly accuracy (pin a fly’s wings at twenty paces!) and your cats are rescued from an Evil Drugs Testing Company?
Or, to be more realistic: what if you’re unmarried because you chose to be alone, but not lonely? There are a thousand reasons why a single, cat owning lady becomes who she is, and none of them are ‘failure at life’.
Ending up single doesn’t nullify your life and what you’ve done. It doesn’t make you worth less than a married woman with a bustling and steadily growing clan of grandchildren and great-grandchildren.
Your value is still the same – infinite in the eyes of God.
Each life is different. Becoming a cat lady – unmarried, single and growing aged – is not the same as catching the Bubonic Plague.
The point of this ramble can be put simply thus:
don’t dis them cat ladies.
-signed, a dedicated cat lady supporter