At first I wasn’t certain if you were what I wanted, but luckily, you wanted me. The day you chose me, I was still reeling from the loss of your predecessor, Padme. It felt like the world would crumble without her.
When I walked into the shelter, I wasn’t certain that I was ready to have another cat. I thought I wanted a kitten. Alas, there were no kittens to be had. Just the adult cats–abandoned, unloved, down on their luck. Looking back, I’m not even certain why I wanted a kitten? I don’t think it entered into my consciousness that I should adopt an adult. I think somehow I believed the common opinion that there must be something wrong with the cats who had been left. That surely no one would leave a perfectly well-behaved animal in a cage at a rescue like an unwanted piece of luggage. I did not yet know that abandonment says something about the owner, not something about the pet. I should have known better. My father left me. There was nothing wrong with me. There was something wrong with him.
Despondently, I dangled my hand down to see if any of the cats roaming the floor of the rescue wanted to be petted, and like a phantom, you appeared. Shoving your hand against my hand, bullying the other cats that tried to approach, and saying in no uncertain terms I was yours. And you loved me. And from the first second I had you in my arms, I think I loved you too.
You have since shared 12 years with me. Curled at my side. Walking with me and the dog. Talking to me constantly.
You like to talk. I have no clue what you are saying, but you clearly have something to tell me. Repeatedly. There are times I question your sanity. Like when you got into a fight at 2 AM with the neighbor’s miniature hippo statue. I have questioned your sanity but never your heart. It is filled with gratitude and loyalty–as if you know that I saved you. But of course, in reality, we saved each other.
Thank you for warm cuddles and silly antics. For friendship on lonely nights. For laughter and even the occasional tear.
Through our years together, I hope that I have been the person you thought that you wanted. I hear your contented purr as I write you this letter and I take it as your tacit approval, my love.
Love always and ever,
Mommy
P.S.–I must confess that the other cat we brought home over 11 years ago…he is staying no matter how often you try to tell me to get rid of him. I’m sorry.
Breed: Domestic Shorthair
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