My Son is a Stuffed Cat And I Don’t Care Anymore
A reclamation of the right to not have kids or pets
Yes, you read that right, I have a son, and he’s a stuffed cat.
Not like a once-living cat that has died and been preserved with chemicals and stuffing. Like a stuffed animal cat. Some might call him a “Beanie Baby,” and if you looked through photos of Beanie Babies online, you might recognize him as a Pounce.
However, even if my son’s species is Pounce, his name is Mochi Socks Skylar Kitagawa, and I guarantee you that he looks different from online photos of other Pounces. After all, what father wouldn’t recognize his own son in a room full of random kids?
Now before you start making assumptions about the state of my mental health, I’m well aware that the stuffed animal I recognize as my son is totally an inanimate object.
Regardless, I’m taking a stand for people who willingly choose not to have human children or fur babies aka pets. Don’t get me wrong, kids and pets are great. All my friends have human children, and they’re adorable. Most of my other coupled friends who don’t have kids have pets. I love dogs and I had one growing up. But the thing about living creatures that rely on you for their healthy, safety, and mental well-being, is that they rely on you for their…
