Man Cave vs. Cat House
by Christy Sillman
My cat is a whore. No, really — a real live feline prostitute. I’m not her pimp, but I’m the keeper of her establishment.
When we bought our home we were a family of three – my husband Steve, our cat LeeLoo, and yours truly. I’m a self-proclaimed cat person and ever since I was a little girl I dreamt of cozy winter days curled up on the couch with a pile of purring fur.
LeeLoo is the cat I’ve always dreamt of.
From the moment we brought her home she was a snuggling purr machine. I always said she is eternally grateful to me for saving her from the shelter, so she made it her job to comfort me in some of my darkest hours. She slept every night curled up against me under the covers, followed closely behind my heels around the house, and was obvious with her loyalty to me.
When I was put on bed rest for seven weeks during my pregnancy, she was overprotective of me by keeping guard at the end of my bed and growling whenever someone unfamiliar would approach me. Late at night she would sneak under the covers and softly purr into my belly. She was as invested in Noah as I was.
Unfortunately one of these unfamiliar visitors also happened to be my best friend’s 1-year-old son who also is a cat person. As he crawled towards the pretty kitty, she hissed and swatted at his face with a full set of sharpened claws.
I instantly went into a hormone-induced panic attack that LeeLoo was indeed a baby killer who was sure to feel jealous of Noah once he was born and would seek revenge through suffocating him in the night. She had to go… out, that is.
The only way I would allow LeeLoo to become an outdoor kitty would be if she had some sort of shelter from the cold and rain. The first place I thought of was my husband’s “man-cave.”
We have a separate one-car garage attached to our home that some previous owner had also deemed “man-cave” worthy, and he put down carpet as well as installed a spectacular pool table light that hangs from the ceiling. Steve’s eyes lit up at the sight of this potential oasis while we toured the home as homebuyers. Shortly after we got the keys, he started working on building his dream man-cave.
He bought official sports paint colors for the three different walls of the garage. As obnoxious as Giants Orange, 49’ers Burgundy, and Kings Purple are, I was happy just to see Steve happy. A poker table, couch, mini bar and sports posters later, and I thought I would never see him again.
Steve reluctantly agreed to share his Man-Cave with poor little LeeLoo, and probably to keep his very pregnant wife from losing it altogether, he supported the installation of a large cat house, litter box, cat door and feeding containers into his room. I sobbed the day we “kicked her out” and spent many days in the man-cave/cat house, lying with her while I waited for Noah’s grand entrance into the world.
Over the past year, LeeLoo has adjusted to living outdoors very well. She knows the neighbors, enjoys chasing bugs and even leaves a mouse or two on our doorstep. Sadly, she loves Noah very much and probably would have never done him harm had she stayed in the house, but I can tell she will never be satisfied with living only indoors again. It was meant to be.
What I didn’t expect was what she would turn into once she discovered the world out there.
On several occasions, we’ve witnessed different cats leaving her cat house. Sometimes two or three at a time! When Steve told me that he had refilled the food container two days ago, I thought he must have been mistaken because I had to refill it just today. Then I heard this strange noise from outside. Steve remarked it was the cats of the night doing their “thing” and it dawned on me what was really going on in the cat house. My baby LeeLoo is a cat whore, and not only that, she’s feeding her clients too.
The cat house really is a CAT HOUSE.
Steve’s man-cave just totally out man-caved your man-cave.
In the words of the forever wise Bob Barker, “Remember to spay or neuter your pets.” Thank God we did.