So fragile you came into our lives. Not even a handful, in shades of grey, black and white. You lay in an old small toy box, not covering a quarter of its base. I was afraid to care… to show affection… convinced that you would not survive that day. The walls around my heart went up.
You were abandoned by your mom. Not by choice, but out of fear. The man who brought you to the pet shop explained how she took off after being startled. Your siblings did not survive the cold. Your eyes were still closed, only a day old.
Trying to be responsible, I insisted we take you to the vet for a check-up. “It’s a girl! She is less than a week old, but very strong!” The vet smiled. Relief flooded my mind. “You need to get her kitten formula.” She phoned around until she found someone who had stock. I rushed off, suddenly inspired by your feisty nature, to do my utmost to help you survive. Your constant screaming for milk might have added to my new determination to get what you needed! The every-two-hour feedings began… and the underlying fear that something might go wrong came with it.
You were in my care every minute of the day. You joined me at work too, until you were able to feed yourself. You fought hard to grow stronger. As you did, you broke down the walls around my heart.
We spent every waking moment together. I was your new Mom. You crawled into my heart, one furry step at a time. I’ve learned to love you as much as it is humanly possible to love a four-legged child.
You brought happiness, fun and laughter into our home. If I had to make the same decision again to care for you, I would do it a hundred times over.
It seems like I’m a cat person after all…