It sounds to me that your twelve-yr-old body got flooded with sex hormones, and your affectionate cat was around. Its cuddliest one night gave you a typically stupid pre-adolescent idea to try something with the cat, which you did, and that's that really. Nothing sexual took place. The cat wasn't harmed. You didn't discover a fetish. That night was it.

Your feelings about that night matter. The night and its events don't.

I won't tell you not to feel what you do. I understand that some people would make a big deal out of it, but I don't. I think you need to explore why you feel so badly about what happened with a therapist. All I can tell you is that I think what you did was silly, and I did silly things then too.

But now we're not twelve, and we can shake our heads at how dumb we were, or laugh at how silly ...

But I don't need to feel guilty because we were disgusting. No. Really. I don't.

I hope, if you think about it some more, maybe you won't, either.