PFLAG for Cats

It has to be said, I am the proud mother of a gay cat. Harold (it's ok to use real names, he's "out of the closet") is a beautiful, large-boned (emotional eater, I'm sure you know what I mean) gray and white, proud gay man.. um, cat.

How did I first know that my feline son was gay? I guess, like him, I always knew somewhere deep down inside of me... It may have been his apparent love, no, obsession, with all that is shiny, glittery and fabulous. His particular fondness for one pink lame scarf comes to mind. He also has a keen interest in accessories, hair ties, headbands, beach hats, and his mother's most sparkly jewels (and what gay doesn't LOVE an extravagant pendant, bangle or broach even if they are merely costume?!) Other proof of his preferred lifestyle came by way of his disregard for the "ladies" (although to be fair, his nether parts have been "fixed" for quite some time,) and his fascination with human males and a few choice "butch" lesbians.

Sometimes I ask myself if I made him this way (gay.) We have always had a close relationship, mother and son. Was it all the time we spent rearranging furniture and decorating the apartment together? Was it the time we spent together looking at fashion magazines (me reading, him rolling around on the cool, glossy pages in ecstasy?) And I always have loved our chats while I'm in the bath and he keeps me company while preening in the bathroom mirror...

Yes, my baby is a homosexual. And, after some mindful self-evaluation, pints of Ben & Jerry's (emotional eating must be genetic!) and many honest, forthright discussions, I've come to a place of acceptance. Harold is here. He's queer. And that fact is definitely clear...

So, I ask you, next time you catch the neighbor's kitty in your garbage or come across that annoying stray in the alley, be kind. After all, he might just be hoping to score on some fabulous vintage baubles.