How I Know My Cat Is A Girl (Besides The Obvious Reason)

We all know that women are goddesses. We possess this quality of grace and sophistication, loveliness and wonder. We smell like the color pink. We’re adorable. We have the cutest laugh. We are spunky and lovable.

My cat, Cova, is clearly female.

As we’ve grown accustomed to our shared living space, Cova has shown all the signs that she is a lady—unapologetically so, as all ladies do.

Starting with: Cova rather spend all her time in the bathroom.

She’s constantly locking herself in there. I have to shut the bathroom door before I leave the house. When I reopen it, she’ll sprint across the apartment like her tail is on fire, soar on angel wings, and land on the counter with a satisfied thump.

And we all know that girlfriends don’t let girlfriends go to the bathroom alone.

Her favorite way to relax is to stretch out in the tub (i.e. the bathroom sink). If she knew how to plug the sink and add salts, I’d find her in a bubble bath with a scarf wrapped around her ears and tiny candles flickering.

She can never have enough bobby pins, and she’s always losing them.

I keep my stash in an old cap of hairspray (because I’m classy). Cova knows where I store the cap, and she will reach her paw into the drawer to scoop/steal as many bobby pins as she can before I return to the room.

Beauty sleep and being well groomed are very important to her. Her naps and showers will be as long and as frequent as necessary and there will be no telling her otherwise.

She doesn’t like to be touched if she’s irritated, busy, or PMSing.

If she does want love, she is very aggressive about it and you will have no choice but to put down whatever you’re doing and PAY ATTENTION TO HER.

If you tell her NO, she’ll just wait for you to leave for work and do it anyways.

When you arrive home from work, she’ll launch into an update about her day before you’ve even had a chance to set down your briefcase.

She’ll tell you about the annoyances she came across (noisy neighbors, an outside bird she couldn’t catch). She’ll tell you about the tasks she accomplished (great power nap, dug a fantastic hole in the potting soil of your rubber tree), and she’ll have a quick honey-do list of things she’ll need you to complete before you settle in for the night (feed her, play with her, and clean her box).

Living with a girl cat has certainly been an adventure.

But I sure wouldn’t trade it for the world. She’s my bestie.

Good luck to the man who decides to take on Cova and me full-time, because truth be told? We’re not much different.

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