Less than two years after adopting Alfred, I did something no spouse should do: I adopted another cat, an American Shorthair tabby whom I named Greta Cannoli.<\/p>\n
I knew Matt was spending the day on the other side of the state kayaking with friends, so I visited the Constellation Cat Caf\u00e9<\/a> \u2014 a beautiful lavender Victorian home situated in the city of Lansing. It doubles as a women-owned organization that fosters cats in a luxurious and loving environment. The caf\u00e9 is like a Starbucks with a cat playroom. They\u2019ll make you a fancy coffee drink and you can book a slot to spend time with adoptable cats of all ages.<\/p>\n That same afternoon, Matt came home to a 3-month-old ball of fur.<\/p>\n Courtesy of Christina Wyman<\/p>\n Bringing home a second cat wasn\u2019t a shining moment for me. Greta\u2019s adoption meant a pissed-off Alfred and a husband who, thanks to me, was no longer sure he could leave the house without returning to another pet.<\/p>\n But after more than two years of experiencing Greta\u2019s love (and my own myriad attempts to regain trust from both Matt and Alfred), I\u2019m happy to say that we\u2019ve all made amends.<\/p>\n Alfred is wickedly smart and knows how to manipulate any situation to get exactly what he wants. When he wants to go outside for his walk (he explores the yard on a leash), he plops down on Matt\u2019s lap and purrs the kind of purring that can be heard from the next room. Greta, having been sheltered with love and care from the time she was in utero, does not possess a single survival skill. But she rolls around on the floor like a dog when she wants attention, and she\u2019s fantastic with pest control. Bugs do not stand a chance in our house. <\/p>\n Part of our daily routine is to explain to Alfred and Greta why they can\u2019t have chicken snacks for dinner (like children, they prefer snacks over whole meals). We refer to their meals as \u201cnummiez,\u201d and they know when their bedtime is. We also keep a bag of seeds and nuts around to feed the squirrels outside our windows so that Alfred and Greta have endless \u201ccat TV<\/a>.\u201d<\/p>\n When people tell me that they love Alfred\u2019s bright blue eyes, I thank them, as though he inherited his good looks from me.<\/p>\n Yes, I anthropomorphize my pets, and I will not have it any other way. They have brought our household an incredible amount of joy. How could we not want to set them up for another loving home in the (hopefully unlikely) event that something happens to Matt and me? The notion of leaving my pets\u2019 survival to chance in the event of our untimely demise has literally had me conducting very odd middle-of-the-night Google<\/a> searches about death probabilities in highly specific scenarios. This flavor of anxiety is one I don\u2019t talk about often, and might be my most embarrassing secret to date.<\/p>\n Courtesy of Christina Wyman<\/p>\n I fully own that my concerns about our fur babies far exceed the socially acceptable. Matt and I haven\u2019t taken a real vacation since we adopted Alfred over four years ago. And like most things that plague adults, I know that my modern-day hangups and limitations have their roots in unresolved childhood trauma<\/a>.<\/p>\n Sadly, I come from a long line of family members who think nothing of abandoning \u2014 or even abusing \u2014 animals. As a child, I witnessed things happening to our pets that no kid should have to witness, and these experiences left a lasting impression on me. Part of how I\u2019ve dealt with the trauma is to channel my energy and resources into planning for my cats\u2019 future care.<\/p>\n \u201cAm I weird?\u201d I asked our new estate planner. I made my concerns clear: I don\u2019t really give a shit about who gets the house. Our nieces and nephew will get most of what we own. Probate law will take care of any rabid family members who might come out of the woodwork, as they\u2019re known to do on my side<\/a>.<\/p>\n But when it comes to my cats and their welfare, I dissolve into a dysregulated mess at the thought of leaving them to their own devices.<\/p>\n Our lawyer smiled at me. His eyes crinkled, so I knew his kindness was genuine.<\/p>\n \u201cNot at all,\u201d he said. \u201cI\u2019ve had a million of these conversations.\u201d (I\u2019m still not sure whether I believe him.)<\/p>\n He reassured us that protecting our pets with something called a Pet Trust<\/a> is a very straightforward process. He reminded me that my fears only become a reality if Matt and I die at the same time, or if we die before our cats do. Both of these outcomes, given our age, health and probability of what the legal profession refers to as \u201csimultaneous death<\/a>,\u201d are statistically unlikely.<\/p>\n But if we were to die, we have designated an executor of our will and trust who will then make sure that our wishes are carried out. Pets are considered personal property, and our executor will see to it that they wind up with their next guardian, should the need arise.<\/p>\n Courtesy of Christina Wyman<\/p>\n Honestly, choosing guardians for Alfred and Greta was the hardest part of the process. I wanted to elect a primary caretaker, but also a backup \u201cjust in case.\u201d Most of our family and friends are dedicated dog people. Only die-hard cat people would do.<\/p>\n I began to stress over our lack of options until I remembered that one of my dear friends is not happy without cats in her life. Zella is the kind of cat mom who wouldn\u2019t dream of traveling with her cats unless it was a chartered flight that exclusively catered to pets (such business models are growing in popularity among pet owners<\/a>). She would make a dream guardian.<\/p>\n Still, it didn\u2019t mean Zella would accept our invitation. So when I sent her an email aptly titled, \u201cA bat-shit proposal from Christina and Matt,\u201d I couldn\u2019t have been happier to read her response: We are so honored and would open our hearts and home to your fur babies Alfred and Greta. The sadness would be overwhelming but we\u2019d make sure your babies heard all the stories about how much they were and continue to be loved.<\/p>\n Our vet and her family also agreed to take in Alfred and Greta in the event of something unforeseen. She has cared for both of our babies from the beginning; she helped us navigate Alfred\u2019s cancer scare and is well acquainted with Greta\u2019s anxiety. Having two trustworthy families to fall back on was exactly what I needed.<\/p>\n Our attorney instructed us to estimate what we thought the cost of our cats\u2019 care might be over their expected lifespan, and then to double the total (ahem, I\u2019m tripling the total, because I believe kindness should be rewarded). Because it\u2019s not legally possible<\/a> to leave money directly to animals themselves, the money would be left to their intended guardian for the purposes of carrying out our wishes for Alfred and Greta\u2019s care. Our executor, with the help of a lawyer, would make sure that this happens.<\/p>\n After some research, I began to see that planning for our pets wasn\u2019t as off-the-wall as I originally thought. According to a 2014 pet owners survey published by Securian Financial Group<\/a>, 44% of respondents said that they made formal or informal plans for their pets\u2019 future care in the event of death. Still, Matt and I are not celebrities. When Joan Rivers famously listed her pets\u2019 care in her will<\/a>, I always thought that such things were the domain of eccentric (and rich) famous people.<\/p>\n Courtesy of Christina Wyman<\/p>\n Now that we\u2019ve been through the process, I recognize the privilege required to estate plan for my pets (or to estate plan at all), and I\u2019m fortunate to be able to pursue this route. It is not a privilege that my parents or anyone in our extended family had. I grew up in a working-class, single-parent household in the \u201980s and \u201990s, and absolutely everything was left to chance, so it is nothing more than good luck and timing that everything turned out OK (despite some serious close calls).<\/p>\n I am now able to do things for animals that I was never able to do before. I donate to animal-related causes and our local cat and dog rescue missions. I also support animal foster homes with supplies that they need when I\u2019m able.<\/p>\n I fully own that I am an obsessed pet parent. With my history of trauma, my approach to pet care makes sense to me. I personally can\u2019t think of a better use of money or other resources to help the most vulnerable among us. And now, thanks to our attorney and some planning ahead, I\u2019m at peace knowing that Alfred and Greta will be taken care of no matter what comes our way.<\/p>\n Christina Wyman is a USA Today bestselling author and teacher living in Michigan. Her new novel, \u201cBreakout<\/a>,\u201d is a fresh and funny middle-grade novel about a girl with chronic acne figuring out how to feel good in her own skin, and is available wherever books are sold, including through local independent bookstores<\/a>. Her runaway debut hit, \u201cJawbreaker<\/a>,\u201d is a middle-grade book that follows a seventh grader with a craniofacial anomaly, and is a Publishers Weekly Best Books of 2023. Her sophomore novel, \u201cSlouch<\/a>,\u201d about a tall girl navigating friends, family, self-esteem, and boundaries, is a Bank Street Best Children\u2019s Book of the Year<\/a>. <\/p>\n![\"The](\"https:\/\/www.newsbeep.com\/uk\/wp-content\/uploads\/2026\/03\/6998b8fc150000534101955d.png\")
The author and her cat Alfred.<\/p>\n![\"The](\"https:\/\/www.newsbeep.com\/uk\/wp-content\/uploads\/2026\/03\/6998b8f42700003944471b90.png\")
The writer’s husband and their younger cat, Greta.<\/p>\n![\"The](\"https:\/\/www.newsbeep.com\/uk\/wp-content\/uploads\/2026\/03\/6998b8f6150000634101955b.png\")
The author on her way to a school presentation (which includes pictures of her cats).<\/p>\n![\"Alfred](\"https:\/\/www.newsbeep.com\/uk\/wp-content\/uploads\/2026\/03\/6998b8f82700003344471b92.png\")
Alfred and Greta cuddling.<\/p>\n