Cats and Dogs

"People are crazy when they're in love." - Sigmund Freud. 

There's a reason why we - ordinary people and Beyonce - say that we are 'Crazy in Love.' There's logic behind the centuries old phrases: "I'm mad for you," or "I'm love-sick" or "I'm head-over-heels." Nobody refers to themselves as Slightly Preoccupied or A Little Bit Twitchy in Love. They don't tell their partners "I'm a Teensy Bit Unstable for you"; there aren't many songs or poems dedicated to Occasionally Illogical in Love. No: it's called Crazy in Love, because it makes you crazy. Mad, because it makes you mad. And sick, because it makes you sick.

Which is why, when the love is over and sanity (hopefully) comes back, it's a little like watching a video of yourself, kicking and screaming in a padded cell with your arms tied behind your back. Embarrassing, painful, and - in the interest of not doing it again in exactly the same way - quite, quite necessary. Something you have to watch with one hand in front of your eyes and the other clutching a large bottle of whiskey so you can swig it from in between your fingers; especially when you finally realise that you spent 18 months of your life having what amounts to the following conversation:

Him: "I'm a cat."

Me: "No you're not, you're a dog."

Him: "I'm definitely a cat. A hundred per cent a cat. I promise you with all my heart, with every single bit of me, that I am most certainly a cat. I've never been more sure of anything in my entire life. I can't think about anything but being a cat, and I don't want anything but to be a cat. I'm living a lie as a dog. However it looks, I'm a cat."

Me: "Well... I want you to be a cat, because I'm a cat too. But I don't think I believe you. I can't help but feel that..."

Him: "I'm a cat."

Me: "Prove it."

Him: "Meow."
Me: "Now you're just a dog, meouwing."
Him: "Don't you want me to be a cat?"

Me: "More than anything."

Him: "Then I'm a cat. What's the problem?"

Me: "The problem is that you're a dog."

Him: "Stop listening to your brain and listen to your heart and to me instead. I know you never trust anyone, but you can trust me. I'm a cat. I'm a cat I'm a cat I'm a cat I'm a cat I'm a cat."

Me (dubious but delighted): "If you're totally sure then...Okay, you're a cat. Oh thank God for that."

Eighteen months later:

Me (2 stone lighter and insane): "You're... you're still a cat, right?"

Him: "I think I might actually be a dog."

Me: "But... I don't understa... You were the one who said you were a cat in the first place. I knew you weren't and you convinced me you were!"

Him: "Are you bonkers? Look at my tail - I can wag it. And look at my ears! And listen to me: I can woof. It's as clear as daylight I'm a dog."

Heartbroken silence.

Me (small voice): "But you must have been a cat for a little while... I mean, you were so sure."

Him: "I think maybe I just got mixed up for a bit. Sorry."

Me: "Maybe you could be a cat again? In the future? If we wait?"

Him: "Don't be stupid, of course I can't. I'm a dog."

Me: "But... I'm still a cat."

Him: "Not my problem. Woof."

In this case, however, you can replace the words a cat with in love with you and replace the words a dog with not in love with you and still be very much on the money. Just as painfully obvious from the beginning, just as straight under your nose, just as absolutely impossible to miss, and yet... somehow - unlike my friends and family, throwing sticks behind me - I missed it. Although I suspected it at the beginning, and a tiny, tiny part of me knew it all the way through, I let him convince me: let my absolute love for him cloud what was in front of my face. And I totally and utterly missed it, for eighteen months.

In the absolute insanity of love, it is too easy to lose your mind: to allow yourself to believe in something that is not there, because you're fooled into believing it is. Because the truth is this: that if somebody shows no respect for you, no care, no kindness, no honesty - if somebody does not fight for you, protect you, adore you, think of you first, put you first, sacrifice for you, hurt for you - they do not love you, no matter how much or how often they say they do. And if they wag their tail and sniff your crotch and bark at strangers and roll over on grass and hump bitches - if they look like a dog, and smell like a dog, and act like a dog - they're a dog. No matter how many times they claim to the contrary, or how much you want to believe them. No matter how certain you are that you're a cat, and how deeply you want them to be. Because they aren't and never will be the same as you.

In the moments when we are locked in those heartbroken, padded cells - with our arms behind our backs and the video of our insanity on loop - all we can hope is that if we watch carefully, then we will know how to recognise real love when we see it, and recognise its absence when we don't. Learn the signs to look for, and the signs to walk away from. So that, eventually, we never have to go back there, and we don't have to watch anymore videos. Because we've found a kind of love that stays, even when the craziness goes. A love that's bigger than madness.

When it's love - real love - nobody needs convincing. When it's love, there are no doubts, no paradoxes, no moments of confusion: no lies, no cruelty, no selfishness. When it`s love, it is simple, it is uncomplicated and it is easy to believe in. Because if it looks like a cat, it behaves like a cat, and it sounds like a cat, then it is a cat. If it doesn't... then it isn't. It's a dog, and it always was and always will be.

And - just as a cat is a cat and a dog is a dog - so the same can always be said for love.