My cat is in love with my vet, and so am I


When my little kitten was 6 months old she got ill. One day she was full of life, the next day she was sullen. She wouldn’t eat, she wouldn’t play, she wouldn’t move. She sat on my kitchen table for 2 days and groaned whenever I smoothed her.

I thought she was dying. How unfair. I’d fallen madly in love with her only a few months earlier and now couldn’t imagine, and didn’t want to imagine life without her.

Cochen was a 30th birthday present from a friend. I hadn’t had the luxury of preparation before she came to live with me. I hadn’t had time to have ‘the big sister chat‘ with Minnie. I’d gone to bed 29, owner of one cat, and woken up 30, owner of two. How the hell did that happen?…. and how the hell was I 30 already!

We all presumed Cochen was a boy because she was ginger, until I took her to the vets for her jabs who confirmed the new man of the house was now the youngest lady of the house.

When I told my niece who was 5 at the time,  she simply said

“Aw, Cochen was a boy but he changed his mind, he’s a little girl now”

The innocence of children eh….

So, Cochen got ill. I stayed up all night with her, I fed her biscuits from my hand,  I dripped water into her mouth, I bought bubbles with catnip in them in the hope she’d find the kitten inside her again. I prayed and I cried. Nothing.

I Googled her symptoms.. (Big mistake – The internet confirmed, as it does when you look up any mild ailment – imminent death!).

On a rainy cold December 23rd I took her to the vets. Usually I don’t mind going to the vets as my vet is hot! He’s Italian and beautiful and buys semi-skimmed milk. I know this because I once stalked saw him in Tesco.

I was scared this time. I was scared that my Christmas memory 2008 would be me walking the streets sobbing with an empty cage. An empty food bowl in the kitchen, little cat toys gathering dust in the corner and a solitary, suspiciously fish-shaped present left unopened under the tree.

The vet called me in. I explained how my little cat had become so helpless she wouldn’t eat, she wouldn’t play, she wouldn’t jump. She wouldn’t do anything. It was like she’d broken. I’d broken my cat.

“Letta me take a look at her” (Remember he’s Italian)

He opened the cage and Cochen bounced out like she’d seen an old friend. She leapt into his arms, purred around his feet, rolled over when he smoothed her and left me feeling like an absolute fool.

It was a harsh lesson in cat owning. The lesson being you don’t. They are in charge, they are in control. Always. You are merely a foot soldier in their grand plans for world domination.


I found myself apologising to the vet and explaining that she really hadn’t been like that for the last 2 days and I thought she was going to die. He turned to me and said

(Remember he’s Italian) “It’sa fine. Sometimes I wake up in the morning and I think I cannota be bothered today. Maybe she justa felt like that huh?”

Oh. I see.  So it transpired after professional veterinary diagnosis that my cat had been suffering from a bad mood… For 2 days.

Either that or she had completely faked the illness so she could attempt to win the heart of the hot vet. It worked. He didn’t give me a second glance whilst cradling her in his arms.

The things you do for love……..