Living Your Third Life

You scared me a lot. I thought you were feral, an absolute danger to my health and wellbeing. As your sharpened claws scratched at toys thrown at you, and as you came back from outside with bloodied paws after a hunt, I was downright frightened.

And I'm kind of sorry for that. I'm also sorry for having slammed the door into you the first time you tried to come into my room - I wasn't sure if you'd pounce at me or not, and in a moment of panic, I did what I did. But you were okay, thank God, and you just walked in, staring at me with a bit of confusion in your gaze before beginning to explore my room.

But this irrational fear of mine didn't last long.

Your genetically curly tail often got caught in strings and lines, and you would often yell out for my help. When you got stuck in our neighbor's backyard, you whined at me to get you out. And whenever I was deep asleep, you would nuzzle yourself next to me. Because you loved me.

And I loved you.

I loved you, you wild baby, so young yet so strong - so why did you not look both ways before crossing? Why were you in such a rush to cross to the other side of the road? What were you chasing after?

What made you have to lay still, bloodied and cold - so so cold - in a pile of flowers before I had to bury you that rainy day? I'm not even quite sure it was raining that day, but in my heart, it definitely was.

I missed you, my wild girl, black and white and absolutely wonderful: Mue, I missed you.

But suddenly, you appeared to me again! Imagine my shock when 6 months later, I come across you in a street fair, up for free adoption! A 6 month old kitten, black and white - and I felt it, our connection running deep. It was you! This was no coincidence. There was no doubt about it. My gut is usually right, and at that exact moment, my gut sparked an emotion, a need to get you out of that cage and into the safety of my home.

You weren't a girl anymore, much less wild, when I got to reknow you, and you reknowing the world. This time, we kept you inside - we didn't want to risk another accident. And you...were absolutely princely.

You held your head up high as if you knew you owned the place, you walked gracefully, albeit slowly, as if walking down a runway where ever you went. But when you sat down - oh how quirky was that! Your paws would face outward and you looked like a duck - I suppose even princes have their little perfect imperfections!

You lived a lot longer this time around. Your company had become something so wonderful, that every time I saw you, I would smother you in hugs and kisses despite your annoyance. Though reserved in affection, you still gave it from time to time, as if to let me know that you did love me.

And I loved you.

So when you began to get sick, and when the treatment, that wasn't even sure to work, was too expensive for me to handle, you slowly began to fade. I thought you wouldn't - I prayed that you wouldn't leave again.

And I never expected it to be so soon. It had been a normal night, me sleeping on the rocking chair. Yet why didn't I pay attention to your mewls waking me up in the middle of the night? Was I tired? Perhaps. But your calls were loud, yet soft. But I paid no mind.

The next morning, I found you dead under the rocking chair. Died of illness. Died crying out to me. That day, I thought myself a murderer, despite knowing that your death wasn't actually my fault. But the fact that I was right there as you were going on to the next world brought me to a state of world-denial.

That day had gone by like I was underwater the whole time. My movements were sluggish, it was hard to breathe, I was about to think of the worst for myself - but...

As I look back, I think I know what you were trying to tell me, my prince, my elegant boy. I think you were trying to tell me that you were there, and that you were thankful for my family for taking you in again - and that there was always next time.

I missed you, my prince, I missed you so much, Lionel.

Thankfully, I am able to tell that to you now directly. It's strange how the world works. Is there a God? An afterlife? Is reincarnation real?

Do cats really live nine lives?

I like to believe yes. Another year after your death, I met you again, another kitten, black and white, and this time, the moment we locked eyes, you came running to greet me as if you were a dog! I took you in as fast as I could, and now, here we are, you on my lap as I write this post, my back twisted slightly uncomfortably, but nonetheless with you.

You're wild like your first self, but aloof like your second - but you have your own little quirks, and you certainly like to cause trouble. But I wouldn't trade you for the world, Lanskey, because you're my cute, adorable, rebellious teenage boy of a cat, and I'm hoping you'll stay here for more than before.

I love you, Lanskey. And I thank you so much, for living out three of your lives with me.

Thank you.