The lady and the love for her cat

This is dedicated to the number one male in my life…
the one that has four paws, a white and gorgeously fluffy coat and a set of beautiful eyes, one blue and one hazel.

You all thought I was going to write about some special guy, didn’t you? The one with the great mind, huh? Oh well! Before the cupcake, there was another love story. A feline story. It has a little curly haired girl that dances almost everywhere and shows her big teeth smiling, and a white, male, big, fat, giant cat in it.

The story started back on a hot, summer afternoon back in 2007. Two little kittens were found in a garbage bag, minutes away from death. (I’m still keeping an eye out for the assholes that did it.). The kittens were saved, cleaned up and now it was for us to decide which one we were going to keep. One for us, one for another family. One casual afternoon, with no intentions to have a pet in the house, and all of a sudden, we got to have one! And we chose you. (Yeah, you got it right; the other one was a girl.)

You stood out. You were fluffier, seemed to enjoy our home, our company, almost like a perfect fit. And we weren’t wrong. But little did we know…

You looked so peaceful back then. Now you’ve been transformed into a feline monster with giant paws and claws and a loud voice that can leave you 100% deaf. It’s not your fault my dear little brother. I take half of the blame for keeping you company, and for sharing my bed with you so easily, with no questions asked.

Cats and entitlement, anyone?

But I do not regret it at all. I’m yours eternally — and I’m going to marry your paws.

These paws know me better than anyone — and they don’t have to say a word about it. Every time I’m happy, you get to be the one who gets the “jumping around the house” hug or an endless parade of caresses on your snout. You’re the one who gets to share everything I eat, drink, watch or read. The last piece of watermelon? Yours. The cereal milk in my bowl? It will end up in yours. And guess who is my television series, movie or book buddy. What’s life going to be like when I don’t have your paws caressing me or demanding me to hug you? Nothing. Honestly, it will be like shit.

Trust me, it’s going to be like shit, even when you persist fighting with me late at night for your space in my bed. Even when we piss each off other at that moment, and we hit each other I wouldn’t have it any other way. Because you’re a cute little asshole that hits me, only to curl up later between my hands butting your head on my chin. And then you hold my hand. And then it’s time for me to quit thinking about those cat murder plots in my head.

With pure certainty, I can say that you might be the only one that has witnessed everything that went on with my life for the last 10 years you’ve been around. You were and still are here, knowing every single possible detail about everything around me. You’ve seen me cry, yell, scream, losing my patience. You’ve been there to support me with that hug of yours every time you see the tears running down my face. And this is how I know that everything is going to be okay; because with that purr, I hear something hopeful. Something that doesn’t allow me to give up. And for that, I’m entirely glad for the moment you simply walked in our lives. But now that I think about it, you walked in, straight into our hearts.

You’ve totally walked in mine, pal. And when I butt my head on yours, I hope you somehow get how much I love you, and your paws. And don’t worry, I even love that loud voice of yours that drives me nuts. And your tail that is always in my face. And the biting revenge of yours when sometimes I’m busy and I ignore you.

Don’t worry, my fluffy feline asshole. Your snout is stuck to my face, my food, my movies, my television series and my books forever. And I think we’re going to fight till the end of time over, those, the space in our bed — and the blankets.