My name is Sarah Mitchell.
Eight months ago, I thought I was doing everything right.
I'm a nurse in Portland. I work 40+ hour weeks. I have a beautiful cat named Miso who I rescued three years ago.
Fresh food. Clean litter. A nice apartment. I was being responsible.
Or so I thought.
That's why when Miso started sitting by the door for hours every day, I was devastated.
It was so gradual I almost didn't notice.
First, she'd greet me at the door when I got home. Normal.
Then she started waiting there even when I wasn't due back for hours.
Then I installed a pet camera and discovered she was sitting in that exact spot for 9+ hours straight. Barely moving. Barely eating. Just... waiting.
"Maybe she's lonely," I told myself. "Maybe I should work from home more."
But I'm a nurse. I can't work from home.
Then came the overgrooming. Bald patches on her legs where she'd licked the fur completely off.
I took her to the vet, terrified something was medically wrong.
Two vet visits and $487 later,
Dr. Reynolds gave me news that shocked me:
"There's nothing physically wrong with Miso. She's suffering from chronic understimulation."
I didn't understand.
"But she has toys!" I protested. "A whole basket of them. Balls, mice, those crinkly things. I bought her a $60 automated laser toy last month!"
Dr. Reynolds sat down with a look I recognized. She'd had this conversation before.
"When did you last actually see Miso play with any of those toys?" she asked.
I opened my mouth to answer... then realized I couldn't remember.
Days? Weeks? Had I been so consumed with guilt that I stopped noticing what was actually happening