When my husband and I married seven years ago, he agreed to a package deal. I came with two middle-aged cats I had adopted long before our wedding. Tom and I were middle-aged, too. He was 61. I was 53 (11 and 9 in cat years). I couldn’t ride into my golden years with a man who was cat averse. Felines are essential for my mental health.
What I never expected was that learning to accept the eccentricities and challenges that developed during Lulu and Moki’s twilight years would teach me how to live with my husband’s peccadillos (and mine) as we grew older.
Certainly, there are reasons it’s simpler to love and forgive a cat than a person. A study at Washington State University points out that just 10 minutes of petting an animal can reduce the stress hormone cortisol. In fact, the benefit of feline companionship goes far beyond that for a middle-aged women's well-being.
Could I bring the unconditional love my cats inspire in me, to Tom, a man who admits he only hears 25 percent of what I say, 30 percent on a good day? Women’s communication skills give us an advantage over men in building stronger relationships with felines. According to professor Michael Nappier, DVM, of the Virginia-Maryland College of Veterinary Medicine: “Women tend to be better at interpreting or perceiving others’ feelings” and they “take the time to pick up nonverbal communication.” Which isn’t to say there aren’t men who love felines, too. Tom certainly is one of them, as is Nappier. “I love working with cats,” he adds. “I am the resident crazy cat dude.”
Cats and their sweet purring and soft cuddles can even make you live longer, according to a study published in the Journal of Vascular and Interventional Neurology. Researchers found a link between owning a cat and a decreased risk of dying from a heart attack or stroke. And, as any cat owner knows, the vibration and sound of a purring cat can calm the nerves, something the study also noted.
Like many people, I relied on my cats more during the COVID lockdown. I worried they suffered from excessive quarantine cat-handling syndrome, though they never complained. I had time to notice that Lulu’s elegant appearance showed signs of advancing years. She developed a touch of gray on her scruff. I thought it was beautiful, like all the swirls on her lovely tabby coat. I didn’t always feel the same about my own graying locks, but I figured if I could accept the beauty of aging in my cats, why not in myself? Even Tom encouraged me to grow out my silver hair, and I came to appreciate my own shimmering, natural color.