Rise and Fall

I try to remember who I was 16 years ago, fresh-faced and awkward. Still living at home and in my first year at University. Knowing no one in my course, I’d spend my breaks between classes going to the rescue pound around the corner.

The kittens stayed outdoors, in a large caged room, with corrugated plastic roofing and shelves set up as bedding. They were always so floppy and clumsy, biting each other and falling over. I’d sit cross-legged on the floor and be immediately swarmed, tiny little paws climbing up my legs, up the back of my t-shirt and nipping at my hands. On this particular day in the far right corner of the room, something caught my attention. A tiny curled-up scroll, completely alone, sleeping on the cold concrete floor. I started to stand, gently placing each energetic kitten on the floor. I inched towards the corner of the room using my toes to avoid accidentally stepping on someone. Each kitten still playing and attacking each other behind me as I crouched down and cupped the sleeping beauty with both my hands. She fit perfectly and didn’t wake as I pulled her close to my chest, all that changed was the sound - from silence to a loud, deep purr.

I didn’t go back to class that day. Instead, I purchased a small crate, a fluffy bed, cat food and some toys. She meowed loudly, all the way home. Sometimes it sounded like a howl and each time a wave of panic sored through my veins. Once finally home and after an hour of Google advice, I placed her and her things in the laundry. Next to her bed, I rested my head on my hands, my stomach sensing the cold tiled floor underneath me. I’d watch a small shaved section of her stomach with sore-looking stitches rise and fall with her breath. “Ensure she doesn’t lick the wound or pull the stitches out. If she does bring her straight back in.” Frightened she would, I didn’t leave her side until I realised I couldn’t sleep there on the floor all night. Going quietly, I made my way to my bed. Only to have nightmares of how I might find her in the morning.

The next day I moved her and all her things into my bedroom with me. Her favourite spot was under the blanket right up near my neck. Her little head sticking out and rested on the pillow like a small newborn in a swaddle. 16 years later and we will still sleep this way. Her body is now large enough to be tucked into my chest, my arm over her ensuring she is covered by the blanket up to her neck. Her head resting next to mine on the pillow.

Now in my 30s, I reflect on how she has been there in every major life event. We first moved out of home together, she saw me get my first career job out of University. She pushed her head into my face, wiping away tears after my first long-term relationship ended. She left the city life with me for something more rural. She laid with me in the sun on many Summer afternoons while I read. She was by my side when I found the one and got engaged.

I sense she will leave me soon. The vet visits are more regular, and there is daily medication to administer. Thyroid issues, seizures, allergies. I still spend my days laying near her watching her sleep. I watch her stomach rise and fall. I count the breaths per minute. “If it’s over 30 bring her straight back in.”