The Young and The Restless | Socialising species is a doggone catastrophe

By Bree Harding

Jun 13, 2024

**Selkie has found all the little hiding spots in the house where the dog can’t fit, such as this space between the bath and the bathroom wall.**

Despite tossing around the idea of getting a new pet for yonks before coming to a decision, I still end up with moments of panic and dread after the deal is done.

It’s like buyer’s regret, the self-interrogation “what have I done?” and feeling like I’ve made some kind of life-altering commitment I’ll never be able to get out of that will change the course of everything.

It might sound dramatic to some, but I’m sure it’s relatable to others.

I do it with many things — new tattoos, holiday bookings, expensive tools for a new hobby I know I’ll never find time for.

I’m ashamed to admit I even had this feeling of dread when I brought my babies home from the hospital for the first time.

It’s like grieving for a lifestyle before that moment when everything changed and fearing the new one, mostly because it’s unknown. And the unknown can be scary.

(I can almost hear the scribbling of the pens any psych students reading this are making in their notepads as they practise making a diagnosis.)

**Luna has cat-chomping jaws that she’d unfortunately like to put to use.** Photo by Supplied

I suppose it all cycles back to comfort zones.

History should have taught me that it usually all works out okay in the end.

We adapt, we create space and time, and we embrace the change, and that’s when our lives become more enriched, not poorer.

And, of course, this is heavily exaggerated when you’re talking about living things.

My babies, for example, were clearly the best things that ever happened to me, but we don’t (or we shouldn’t) bring children into the world if we haven’t thought it through properly.

**Selkie snuggles safely in her cat cave in a room inaccessible by the resident dog.**

Pets also shouldn’t be welcomed into our homes lightly. While nowhere near as big a commitment as a baby, they are still a big one nonetheless since they depend entirely on you for food, warmth, care and companionship for sometimes a couple of decades.

Childhood is fleeting, though, and despite raising my kids on my own for most of their lives while working and truly feeling like I had enough on my plate already, I still wanted my children to experience the love and responsibility of having fur siblings, even if that did mean having more mouths to feed.

We’ve always thought of ourselves as dog people.

**Luna the Dalmatian cross Staffordshire terrier is not so thrilled about living with a cat. She would much prefer to eat the cat.**

Even though I had five cats through my childhood — Whiskas, Cheeky, Chunks, Gravy and Merlin — I had not owned one as an adult.

As with many things an impressionable, not fully developed mind thinks, we tend to adopt some belief systems of those we spend our time with or those we look up to.

For example, I had long thought I didn’t like John Farnham’s music because my mum is not a fan.

But I slowly realised as I grew just how much I enjoyed singing along to his catchy tunes every time one came on a work radio or in someone else’s car where I couldn’t skip forward a track.

**Selkie is adapting to her surroundings well.**

Independent thought is one of the most freeing things about maturity.

Influences have always shaped us, and we don’t often grow into our true selves until later in life when we can’t give two hoots about whether the person next to us yucks our yum.

But being surrounded by so many dog people who didn’t even like cats was impressionable.

And, because cats were absent from our lives we developed sensitivities to them, so it didn’t look likely we’d ever have one.

It’s been upsetting for my non-allergic, cat-loving middle child to know this for the whole 15 years of his life.

So you can imagine his excitement when we brought home a timid and shy little six-month-old kitten named Selkie to love on the first day of winter from council’s cat adoption day.

We had suddenly become cat people.

Our dog didn’t suddenly become a cat dog though; she was utterly disgusted we would let such a species inside our doors for any other reason than to feed her with it.

No, Luna. We didn’t bring home takeaway.

**Luna is a Dalmatian cross Staffordshire terrier, who thinks cats are food, not friends.** Photo by Supplied

When my 13-year-old woke up the next day, you wouldn’t have realised he was awake, given he could only open his raw, puffed-up eyes the tiniest of slits.

The feeling of dread rushed back — what have I done, what have I done?

Thankfully, we got through 24 hours without a sneeze a few days later.

And a couple of weeks later, there’s been no more. My 13-year-old’s eyes are now wide open; his beautiful heterochromatic irises visible again in all their multi-coloured glory.

Our playful yet timid little kitty, who doesn’t love being picked up, is getting more used to her surroundings and braver each day, which is surprising with the dog spending all her waking hours (when she’s not eating) staring intensely down her snout at her through a baby gate.

**Selkie’s senses are highly tuned to see, smell and hear the resident domineering dog in the vicinity.**

Our displaced dog, however, has not demonstrated much change in her behaviour. (FYI, she hasn’t actually been displaced, but if you believe her side of the story, she’ll dramatise it like that for you.)

Here are some things I’ve learned since being a cat-owning adult:

I have too many ornaments on shelves.
I need to dust underneath things more often.
Animals cost more than their adoption fee, toys, beds, scratching towers, food and litter — make sure you keep some money aside for when your dog’s boofhead smashes a tinted plate glass window lunging at the cat after someone accidentally left a door open.

Once again, that feeling of dread rushes back.