‘My Anxiety is Completely Under Control,’ Says Woman Forcing Bonnet Onto Cat
By: Katie Pecho
CINCINNATI, OH—Forcefully shoving a vintage bonnet onto her cat Muffins, local worrier Suzie Whistler assured sources and herself late Friday night that her anxiety was definitely completely under control.
“I mean, I know I’ve said I was fine in the past when I actually wasn’t,” Whistler said, fastening the lavender ties of the bonnet under Muffins’ chin, “but this time I really mean it. And not just because I’m afraid of burdening people with my problems. Not at all.”
Adjusting the stiff collar of the antique headpiece, Whistler continued, “My mom is afraid this is going to be like that time I was totally cool but then cancelled a job interview because I was terrified I was going to mess it up. Or when I became convinced I had pancreatic cancer but it turned out I just needed to poop. These are mistakes anyone can make, and none of this means that my anxiety isn’t well-managed. Who among us hasn’t written a four-page email to a friend we thought was mad at us but in reality was just asleep?”
Whistler gingerly lifted Muffins and placed him on a gothic column beside a bust of Louisa May Alcott, while Muffins pawed hopelessly at his bonnet. She held up a cell phone with a cracked screen and began snapping photos of the grouchy feline, who looked decidedly furious.
“Besides, what else am I going to do about it?” Whistler said, pausing to rub off-brand antiseptic ointment onto a deep scratch. “It’s not like I have health insurance.”
Whistler began uploading the photos to her social media pages, with the caption “He’s happy, I swear.”
“By the way, did you see my neighbor on the way up?” she asked. “Did he look mad? I used the blender at 8am and now I’m kind of freaking out that he’s pissed at me.”
She patted Muffins softly on the head, who remained staunchly unforgiving.
“It’s been stressing me out all day. I can’t afford real meds so I’m just going to take an antihistamine and hope for the best.”
“#blessed,” she commented on her own photo.
“But you’d tell me if he said something, right?” Whistler asked, pulling Muffins to her chest and hugging him tightly.
“Not that it matters,” she added quickly. “Because it doesn’t matter. Everyone is always telling me none of it matters. So like I said, I’m good.”
