This is the second extract in an ongoing series of love letters journalist Simona Terron is writing to her kitten while she’s away (the entire series is up on the Medium app). What does it take to commit to adopting a homeless cat?
“Adopting you clearly a well-thought out and logical decision.
Because yes, I was a boomerang kid who’d yet again moved back in with her parents at the ripe old age of 38 thanks to my at-that-moment living arrangements being shot to hell for various reasons.
Yes, I couldn’t afford to add another mouth to feed to my already strained finances.
Yes, there was another kitty who was depressed at losing her lifelong furever friend and was in no mood to welcome a strange kitty.
Keesha is finaly behaving like a cat who is interested in life again. She's doing well on the renal diet and her appetite is definitely back. Playtime is intense, with her going on the offensive instead of just swatting away an over enthusiastic Laurie. She's still making pee-protests occasionally but overall, she's become more interactive and is happy to be held. Depressed after her lifelong bestie died in Dec 2015, she'd stopped being herself to the extent that I thought I was gonna lose this gorgeous 12 year old too. And this year am so glad she's chosen life, has taken to her new pal, Laurie and of course, is open to being loved. Thank you @meenanew for the pics. You took the very first one of her n me ever the very day we rescued her from a pack of street dogs back in 2005. (The tiny handful was spitting and hissing, proving quite a handful for the savage pooches) #catsofinstagram #purple #catlover #furbaby #cateyes #ilovecats #depression #animalcompanions #opentolove #chooselife #kidneydisease #prettykitty #furryfriends
Yes, I needed to focus my attention on my work, having only just started out on life as an independent media professional, and was not-so-secretly shit-scared that I’d have to eat crow, swallow humble pie and go crawling back to the crap-world of crummy corporate creativity-combusting captivity.
But there you were, curled up in a tiny ball, orange and some strange shade of dusty white, fast asleep in my arms while I saw you up for adoption on Facebook. How could I NOT man up already and adopt you, good sense be damned.
And as if to kill any vestige of hesitation that may have crept into my bones before I hit those dramatic words onto my phone keypad, you purred… oh so softly. And stuck your tiny pink tongue out in your sleep. I was a goner.
I mean, I used to love that song Deep by East 17, a one-hit-wonder boy band that faded into oblivion along with my teen obsession with MTV music videos. Especially the line that went, “Come rest upon my chest.”
Never in my wildest dreams had I imagined a lil critter like you would not only be resting upon my chest but that your entire body would fit there.
I mean, I know I have an ample bosom and am generously endowed, but you were defying gravity.
You sleeping on my chest like a book on a shelf, so comfy, so safe, so utterly unconcerned with plebeian concerns like falling down and hurting yourself… I mean, c’mon, I didn’t stand a chance. And I claimed you, and surrendered to your claim over me.”
To check out the series in its entirety, visit Love letters to Laurie