Monica Bielanko
That's What She Said
Just A Junk Drawer Dream
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My Transgender Cats

Last night I was watching The Walking Dead (season 2 on DVD, no spoilers or I will hunt you down, cut off your ears and thread them onto my fishing line ear necklace featuring the ears of everyone on the Internet who spoils shit for everyone else) by peering between the crocheted yarn on the afghan through which I watch all scary programming and I happened to look over and see Tiger crouched at the edge of the living room staring at me in a manner that made me more than a little uncomfortable. And by uncomfortable Serge would tell you that just maybe I thought she was an errant zombie in search of dinner and I might have jumped a couple feet off the couch onto the coffee table in a karate stance. And by karate, I mean karate, not kuh-roddy, which I think you know means serious fucking business.

We leave the back screen door open a lot in the summer when Max and Milo are being extra diva-ish about roaming in and out of the house (I need to pee! Let me out! Eh. Now that I'm outside not so much! I need to be inside! Wait! No! Now I need to poop! Ooh, it's raining! I don't want to go out there! Okay! I changed my mind! I really need to poop now! Wait! What are you doing in there? Let me in! All this communicated via sharpish barks that rattle your bones and wake sleeping babes) so sometimes Stevie Nicks creeps in and stalks around inspecting shit like some kind of...inspector. But Tiger, notoriously shy, or trying to lull you into a false sense of security so she can sink a fang in your jugular, never does. Until I'm watching an apocalypse featuring zombies that has me deadbolting all the windows every night before bed, just in case, and then I look over and she's staring at me with those peculiar green eyes and obviously ruminating on the taste of my blood.


So yeah. After a year of feeding the cats and buying them quaint, poofy apartments made from fabric and cotton to sleep in and then sneaking out to the garage after everyone is in bed so I can love them up, I guess I should probably cop to being a cat owner of not one but two cats; Stevie Nicks and Tiger. I think paying the neighbor boys to feed them while I was on vacation was probably the nail in my Cat Lady coffin.

Incidentally, I had figured Stevie Nicks for a girl, and Tiger and Bandit were pegged as boys. There is no scientific way I determined their genders, it was a feeling. Turns out, my feelings about cat genders are about as off as my math skillz. Basically, do not rely on me to figure a tip and don't count on me to correctly identify your cat's gender if you were needing some kind of feline gender identification.

Bandit is the neighbor's cat and is a she. Her name is 'Kisses.' Yes. My bad boy Bandit is a gal named *cough* Kisses. Kisses lives two doors down and started sneaking onto my porch when she realized I was a sucker who fed the good stuff (wet cat food) to any cat who sashayed onto my porch and gave me the poor-me meow. Tiger, as a wonderful veterinarian informed me after I wrote this post, is most likely a girl. Apparently Calico cats are almost always girls because of some chromosome stuff I won't bore you with. And Stevie Nicks? Most orange Tabby cats are usually male. Three outta three genders wrong.

Bandit doesn't come around anymore. After discovering she's the neighbor's cat I stopped feeding her because I may be a sucker but I am not made of money so go home and eat your stupid dry cat food I have other mouths to feed. Go on! GIT! But after wintering in our garage I think it's pretty safe to say Stevie Nicks and Tiger belong to us now. The kids still think Stevie Nicks is a girl and use the corresponding pronouns, correcting me if I slip and refer to her as a him. I think I've finally managed to think of Stevie Nicks as a boy, though. It's like dealing with a transgender relative who has asked you to start referring to them by their chosen gender; it just takes some getting used to is all.


And that right there is the big cat update.

Two cats, two dogs, two kids = two parents, two migraines, two really large glasses of wine.

Reader Comments (8)

I had an orange tabby that was a girl, so it is possible, have you looked at his/her partz???

July 1, 2013 | Unregistered CommenterBecca

@Becca - I have tried so very hard but, in the end, I don't even know what I'm looking for. The space between the butthole and the other stuff? I haven't spotted balls. Do cats have balls? I just don't know.

July 1, 2013 | Unregistered CommenterThe Girl Who...

Lola wants to grow up and have two girls and name them Dylan and Stevie.
My sister's best friend from childhood was a boy named Stevie.
So that name totally goes two ways.

July 1, 2013 | Unregistered CommenterMaggie May

yes, they have balls if they are not neutered, yeah it can be tricky to tell

July 1, 2013 | Unregistered CommenterBecca

Funny, we sort of had a cat once...He was a BIG FAT-HEADED tabby, a neighborhood prowler who would show up with his neck and head all ripped open regularly. We named him Punkinhead, Cats can be scary, One time, I took a sick day off from school and was watching TV when in my peripheral vision, I caught movement of the basement door and was completely freaked out when a HUGE TOM CAT walked into the room. No kidding. The think was the size of a dog and had this LOW growling sound I can't call a wandered upstairs somewhere and came back down to face off with me at the front door where I held a broom in defense. That monster cat lunged towards the glass window over the front door sending those decorative colored glass bottles to the floor. It was quite a scare for a 10 year old. I thought it was a panther. Must have come in through the basement window...You just NEVER know what's in the basement. Zombies...

July 2, 2013 | Unregistered Commentergina

How do you like the name 'Jules' for a male cat?

July 2, 2013 | Unregistered Commentergina

The ratio of male to female orange tabbies is 80/20, so there's a chance Stevie Nicks is indeed a girl. Ha. As far as anatomy ID, look below the tail, and below the Walmart logo (aka the butthole). If you see a pair of nuts, congrats! she's a boy. On the other hand, if he was neutered as a kitten, there may be no visible apparatus. Bottom (heh) line? Only your veterinarian knows for sure.

July 2, 2013 | Unregistered CommenterRockyCat

Fascinating Post.

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