A Happy Couple, Four Cute Cats, and No Kids

I didn’t choose the cat life, the cat life chose me.

My partner and I have been together for nearly nine years at this point. One of the earliest conversations we had in our relationship was laying out what we both wanted from whatever may come of our then-new coupling. First and foremost: neither of us wanted children.

We both have our reasons. For me, I don’t want to risk passing my bipolar onto a child, as I suffered enough with it growing up and I wouldn’t want to knowingly inflict it upon someone else. Additionally, I am a selfish bastard and don’t want the responsibility of taking care of a small human. I also just…don’t really like kids. I never really have, even when I was also a kid — as a middle schooler, I looked at kindergarteners and thought “ew, gross, no thanks.”

It’s not that I can’t stand them — many of my friends have kids, and I like them just fine, as long as I don’t have to hold them and we don’t have to take care of them. Honestly, I can get very protective of my honorary nieces and nephews (and niblings, which I found out is the gender-neutral term for it and which I love). I just enjoy waving goodbye at the end of our visit.

My partner has a number of her own reasons for not wanting kids, but I will save those for another time since she hasn’t explicitly permitted me to share them.

So, instead of kids, we have four cats.

My partner and I love our cats. They keep us fairly busy, as they’re adorable jerks (as most cats are), but they’re also loveable and like to cuddle, so it’s worth it. They’re also fairly self-sufficient, so that’s nice. We both grew up with cats; she had two that her ex-partner kept after they broke up, and I’ve always just enjoyed them.

We currently have four cats. Two of them have been with us for seven years at this point — we got them as kittens, a trio of black cats found in a bush. They were named Darby, Jello, and Billy Jo, after three punk rockers.

Darby was a typical punk rocker, stirring up trouble, and while Jello is more like his food counterpart, he has turned into a little feisty thing as well. Billy Jo has been renamed Bilbo, which is more befitting of his personality — a bit bewildered as to how he got anywhere, but generally kind and loving.

Darby, unfortunately, passed away when he was two due to an unknown illness. I ugly cried over his death — oddly, it was the first time I’d well and truly cried since I was a child. He died not long after we’d picked up another black cat, a girl we named Katsu.

Katsu is a Japanese word that translates to “cutlet,” as in a pork cutlet. However, it is also a pun, as the phrase “ka tsu” means “to win” in Japanese, so students will often eat katsu sandwiches before exams for luck. As it turned out, Katsu is fairly small for a cat, so the name “cutlet” was fitting. She was another feisty thing, and she tends to bully the boys even though they’re twice her size.

About three years ago, as we’d settled into life with three cats, we had another one barge into our life. I mean that literally — a grey tabby showed up on our porch and broke into the house several times. After getting her checked out at the vet, we found out she was healthy and had no microchip. We posted “found cat” notices on social media and at our vet, but nobody claimed her, so we took her in.

We struggled with what to name her, as the boys had come pre-named and we’d settled on Katsu before we picked her up. Eventually, we named her “Toner,” as in a house with three black cats, the printer was running low on ink when it printed this grey tabby cat. She is an incredibly affectionate thing who loves people and charms everyone she encounters. She also didn’t get along with Katsu.

So, for the past three years, we’ve had to deal with two cats that don’t get along, as well as the fact that both of our girls tend to push the boys around even though both boys are bigger than them. It’s a hectic life, and they keep us on our toes, but Katsu and Toner have improved their relationship in small steps. Just today, they spent 20 minutes sharing a windowsill without attacking each other, which has never happened in the history of their relationship.

My partner and I have embraced the life of being cat parents. They’ve always been considered members of our family, but for a long time, we resisted the “cat dad” and “cat mom” monikers. That, unfortunately, has started to fall by the wayside; we call each other “cat dad” and “cat mom” as a sort of joke, but it’s also kind of serious. Only kind of.

They are not literal replacements for potential children, of course. They are pets, and even though we treat them well and consider them family, they are not our surrogate child substitutes. We have them because we like cats, not because we secretly want kids.

Honestly, we are both so committed to a child-free life that I got a vasectomy a few years ago so we could have some permanent birth control. I was rather amused when they asked me when I decided I didn’t want kids and I responded, honestly, “when I was 12.”

Also, as a side note, I got my vasectomy at Planned Parenthood. They do a lot of things other than abortions, including stuff for guys!

I know a lot of people will call us selfish or look down on us for choosing to not have kids. I have many colorful responses to those people, but one of the big ones is that I don’t care to bring a life into this world that is falling apart due to climate change, political unrest, a broken healthcare system and economy, and literal fascists running around America.

I am also not so selfish as to bring a child into this world to live vicariously through a little mini-me or have a couple of kids so someone will take care of me when I’m older. Nothing says “loving parent” like having kids to have a couple of indentured servants for household chores and to take care of you when you’re old.

Also, as previously stated, I don’t want to risk my kid having bipolar, among other things. I went through hell starting at age 12, and I won’t risk that for my child.

Oh yeah, I also like having money, free time, and enough sleep. So I guess I am a little selfish.

All of this is not to say that all parents are selfish. Pretty much everyone I know with kids legitimately loves them and wants them to succeed, and none of them had kids for any of the reasons I described. They were all either welcome additions to the family or, as Bob Ross used to say, “happy accidents.”

So, we will have our cats, and they can have their kids, and we will see our friends and greet our assorted honorary niblings, and when we’re done, we can go home to a quiet house and play with our cats. I am a big fan of letting people do what they think is best for themselves. For me, that’s having four cats, but if that means having kids for you, then more power to you.

Unless you’re having kids just so somebody will mow the lawn and change your diapers when you’re old, in which case I’m judging you super hard right now.