by Meg Crane

My cats are wild snuggle monsters. David, an orange tabby cat, likes to be tucked under the covers and spooned all night. My calico Stella wanders the apartment, crying, when she doesn’t know where me and my lap are. And the tuxedo, Suki, wakes from her naps to run to the door when anyone buzzes, knowing she’s got someone else to nuzzle. Sometimes, being a freelance writer is hard just because of how madly they battle with the keyboard for my attention.

On days when my anxiety is taking over, things get a little different in my home. Instead of them fighting for cuddles, they squiggle their way onto my body, press their chest against mine and purr with their head on my shoulder. The more anxiety I have, the more likely it is that I’ll have a cat pressed against me throughout the day, even when I’m cooking meals and walking around.

I didn’t connect what I perceived to be my kitties’ intense neediness with my body’s alarmed state until I learned that cats use their purrs to heal themselves and others.

People’s lived experiences aren’t often taken seriously when it comes to the world of medicine until the science comes along to back it up. For example, the benefits of acupuncture were felt way before the science was fully understood. Similarly, the benefit of having a cat curled up and purring on laps was understood by cat-lovers well before scientists figured out that their company is good for more than just comfort.

An article published by Scientific American titled “Why do cats purr?” explains that felines purr at a frequency of 25 and 150 Hertz. Sound frequencies in this range have been proven to increase bone density and promote healing.

The technology used to measure the vibrations of cells was only recently created, which is why this is new information.

Dr. Linda Hamilton, a vet at Natural Healing Veterinary Care in Winnipeg, Canada, has studied the research and listened to firsthand experience from many of her patients’ human companions. She says the studies she’s referencing were done by vets with PhDs who have a strong background in Western medicine as well as more natural methods to healing.

According to her readings, she says cells vibrate at a different frequency when they are sick—such as when a bone is broken or when cancer cells are invading—a different vibration when the body is trying to heal and another vibration when everything is running smoothly. Cats purr at the vibration of healing cells, which works to bring other cells back to a healthy vibration, speeding up the healing process.

Hamilton says many of her patients tell her that their standoffish cats suddenly become uncharacteristically affectionate when a human or other animal in their life is ill, injured or experiencing high amounts of anxiety, and this is why.

Anyone who’s spent anytime with cats also knows they don’t just purr when they’re content. Hamilton says they’ve seen cats who purr on the operating table after a broken leg has been set.

And, in my case, my cats purr their way through my panic attacks and days of nauseating anxiety. This makes perfect sense to Hamilton, who has other clients with similar experiences. Anxiety kicks in the flight-or-flight response, delaying digestion and healing in order to prepare the body to flee from danger. But, when you’ve got an anxiety disorder, there’s often no actual danger to flee. Hamilton surmises that a purring cat helps activate the parasympathetic nervous system, responsible for the body’s relaxed state, ready to do its normal functions.

The lived experience is there. The science is there. What are you waiting for? Adopt a cat, visit a friend’s or volunteer at an animal rescue for some healing purrs and relaxation. Unless you’re allergic to cats, your body will undoubtedly thank you.

A few months ago, I had a panic attack so severe I dropped to the floor of my apartment, short of breath. As I got up on all fours to do some “cat cow” stretches and breathing, David, Suki and Stella all, somewhat hesitantly, wandered over. They took turns poking at my heaving body with their noses, before wrapping themselves around my limbs. Once my breathing stabilized and I had laid back on the floor, David snuggled into the crook of my arm. I’m certain recovering from that would have taken much longer without my healing purr machines watching over me.

Meg Crane is a freelance writer and editor. Having struggled with anxiety and depression her whole life, she helps other freelancers and creatives learn how to take care of their mental health while pursuing the work they love. Learn more at megjcrane.com.