What my cat would say to her psychiatrist: Part 1
Dr.: So, why are you here Peaches? Can I call you Peaches?
Peaches: If I had another name I’d let you call me it. Can you believe that they gave me such a stupid name? How’d you like to be named after a fruit? How ’bout if I called you Dr. Apple, how would that be? Or Dr. Pomegranate? I’m a cat; I’m not a fruit.
Dr.: You sound very angry. Are you angry?
Peaches: Of course I’m angry! You would be too if you knew what the other cats are saying about me. I can just tell by the way they look at me — that blank, expressionless stare. It says it all.
Dr.: What do you think they’re saying about you?
Peaches: Well, it’s hard to tell, but I don’t think it’s good.
Dr.: Everybody knows you can’t tell what cats are thinking about you by looking at them. It’s just unsettling, that’s all. What would you like to talk about today?
Peaches: I don’t know.
Dr.: Let’s start with your parents. How do you feel about your parents?
Peaches: You don’t go into therapy unless you’re angry with your parents.
Dr.: Why are you angry with your parents?
Peaches: It’s the way they call me. They stand on the deck and call out in this high sing-songy baby voice. “Here pee pee! Come here pee pee!” They refuse to treat me with respect and it’s ruining my reputation in the neighborhood. The three cats next door snicker at me every time I walk out the front door. I can’t even keep them off my own yard.
Dr. : Sounds like you’re having trouble making friends. You know you’re not alone. A lot of cats have this problem.
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