My cat is my best friend.

To some people-friends, relatives-I’m known as ‘Crazy Cat Lady’; this dates from a verbal gaffe earlier last year. But the thing about this is that my cat is my best friend. There, I said it.

The thing with having Aspergers is that friendship is incredibly had; it was always something that I struggled with throughout my educational life. Oblige me, just for a minute, to allow me to explain more fully the trouble I have:

  • I didn’t conform. Like, ever.

I wasn’t like people my own age; I was always more interested in my ‘special interests’-a hallmark of Aspergers. A lot of the time throughout college it was Jacqueline Kennedy. Nobody apart from me wishes to know about this!

  • Voice.

My voice is flat. Dull, even. And I have trouble moderating my voice level at the best of times.

  • You.

One of the things I find hardest, and what I dislike most about myself, is that I cannot read what your face tells me-whether happy, sad, and all of the in between. And it lead me to make a lot of mistakes-such as upsetting people-when I virtually had no intention of doing so.

There were a few other issues, but A: I won’t bore you, and B: this part of today’s post has already upset me enough as it is. 

You see, for some reason, my cat adores me; everyone and everything else she cannot stand. She will hiss, bite, scratch… but not to me. And some days she will run in, looking for me. If I walk into a room whilst she’s asleep, she virtually always gets up to interact with me.

The thing about cats is that they don’t care; they have no social codes that need to be observed. (I never did, which got me into trouble at points.) You just need to bring a piece of string, or a tiny ball, to play with. They appreciate tickles under the chin. They like to wrap themselves round your ankles.

I feel comforted round my cat; I don’t know what it is, or how it works, but I feel contented in this very ‘neurotypical’ world. I don’t need to go masking, or try to interact, often to my detriment.

As to ‘Crazy Cat Lady’ credentials? I’ve been to the Cat Cafe in London. (It was fab. And you can read all about it here.) I’m a register cat sitter for Cat In A Flat; see my profile here.  I also have a pen pal who adores cats; I sent her a cat birthday card. (Hey Charlene if you’re reading this!) I’ve also interviewed a cat, sort of. (See the post here.) 

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And click her her to find out why Envy Fisher of Lost In Translation identifies (sort of) as a cat.