Wild Cat

When thinking of wild animals, the domestic house cat might be pretty far down on your list.

This is our cat, Confetti. She has a respiratory condition that prevents her from exploring the outdoors without tight supervision. Smallest of her litter, loud breathing, and in need of constant support, she is the picture of domestication.

The cat, however, has not forgotten her roots. She blossoms on our walks, leaving nothing unsniffed and unexplored. Covering ground while planning out her steps, her exploration comes naturally. She trots around as if she had never lived inside at all.

This picture is her finally getting to examine the new spring birds she's been chirping at through the window. Eyes wild and focused, she sits and listens. The cat behaves much more timidly than when she was watching from the safety of the house. She remembers how to act out here, switching perfectly from the house cat that sleeps at our feet to the cold, silent investigator in the grass.

Except, if we approach her, our outstretched hand is treated with the same loving purrs as if we were inside the walls of our home. She still raises herself into our hands, enjoying every bit of the love we've extended to her. The cat did not shift into something no longer known. She hasn't really become anything else at all. This wild part lives constantly with the rest of her.

She teaches me a lot about identity. I am adopted and often feel a disconnect from my heritage. Much like I was adopted into my family, our cat's life could have been much different, too. No matter how long between outdoor visits, though, her instincts come quickly and naturally. She wastes no time picking up where she left off. There's no room to be different from the other busy cats roaming the neighborhood. The cat simply doesn't have the need to 'other' herself. Something I'm still trying to learn in my own life.

She grew up in the comforts of our home and shows love for this dynamic. Much like I love the people who gave their all to raise me. It isn't a choice to not feel settled in one part of your identity. I love this part of my story, but I have to push to know more. The cat looks longingly out the door to explore a different path for herself, even if for just a little while.

When I photograph the cat, I am cautious to only study her. I don't influence her to look at me or decide where to go. I don't just want a picture of the cat with a pretty background, I want to see her intensity. I want to capture the calm calculations she's doing in her head. I want the beautiful mix of her wildness, spirit, and instincts juxtaposed with the sparking collar that will always point her home.

Observing this little cat being wild and beautiful, and still coming home to the love we will always provide her has taught me so much about how we don't have to choose between parts of ourselves. There isn't a side of us that has to be overcome or let go. We can be made of many things, and embrace them all.

We are complex. So much goes into the people we are made up to be. Some may be out of our control, but ultimately we are whatever we choose to be. Defining ourselves even when others try to put us in boxes is powerful. The cat is the picture of domestication, but she knows she is wild inside.