A letter to my long-distance cat
Soup,
When I see you, you look just like the day you came home with us: Impossibly small, with your soft grey coat and fluffy white patches and expressive green eyes. You are perfection embodied, and I miss you every day. You are my lock screen, my late-night photo scroll, my favorite thing to post, my everything.
My story is not unique, and I am not sharing it as an excuse. I know you can’t understand, but I did not have a choice. You came into my life when I was beginning middle school. Now, a bit more than a month into my master’s program, a state away, I am constantly completing an assignment for one of my four classes and working 40 hours a week at my job. Where did all the time go? Where did 11 years go?
I am sorry that you moved, and I am not there. I am sorry that my parents had to downsize to afford living as they adjust to life in an empty nest. It is not fair that I stroll in once a month for a quick weekend and then take off without warning. I cry every time in the car as I drive away from you. My parents laugh at me and those tears, but they do not understand how much I miss you and how much it physically hurts to be away from you.
They do not understand that, as I lay awake late at night, I would give anything to have you sleeping beside me, curled up next to my head like you did for all those years as we grew up together. And at the same time, it would be the worst thing for you, to travel so far and for me to be busy all day, for you to be alone all day, essentially. With my parents, you have someone there with you every day. I could not give you that right now, given where I am in my life, with roommates and an unpredictable schedule.
Do you remember when we first brought you home? You came up to my room, and we used the Jack-and-Jill bathroom attached to my room for your litter box. It took you some time to settle in. There was one night I had to wrap you up in a blanket to calm you down, and you slept wrapped up like that all night. We introduced you to our other cat, and you were so small as he hissed at you. You made your grand entrance from the cage out into the living room for the first time, and you had no fear. It did not bother you that our other cat had, until that point, ruled the house in solidarity — until you emerged fearless, attempting to play with him like you used to with your littermates in the cage at the hardware store we adopted you from.
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Do you remember that? You were the only kitten with your coloring — one of the only girls, I believe — and I wanted you. You were in a cage right by the Agway door, and it was probably so noisy for your little ears. I felt so strongly about you that you came home with us, even when my sister and mom liked some of the other kittens. I did not care — I wanted you. You were my baby from that point onward, and you made every bad day okay. You slept next to me every night, and it is so painful to have been the one to leave you.
Do you accept my apology? When I visit with treats and tubes and you scarf them down, do you know I love you? When you sit next to me from the moment I get there until I leave, do you know that I love you? When I am not there, do you know that I love you? When I rush back there in panic when you are not doing well, do you know that I love you? Do you know that I need you in my life, even when I cannot always be there?
Being apart is so painful. I wish more than anything that you knew that. It would not change anything, as your life will go on the same way, but you are my baby. I loved our other cat; I remember spending the day in bed together with you after I found him motionless downstairs. I remember spending so much at PetSmart on the cat tree beside my bed and all those Da Bee brand toys that I shoved in my trunk before heading to work. And I missed him, but I still had you.
I remember bringing our new cat home after that. Again, you were to be put in your place by another boy cat, except that was not what happened. You had become the ruler of the roost — you were the first to emerge when new people came around, you were the first to adapt to that new house you are living in now. I love this cat, too, but you are my baby. You are my favorite, and you will always be. When I see those ridiculous posts about boy cats versus girl cats, I laugh. You are the sweetest cat I have ever met. When people aimlessly hate cats because one they mistreated as a child hissed at them, I chuckle. They have no idea.
You are so strong and brave, and I am so sorry you had to do it without me. I wish you knew that being there is best for you right now. Maybe one day I will have a place that is just ours, where you can come with me? It is not looking financially feasible any time soon. I would give anything to be in that place now. Do you know that I would give anything to sleep in the same bed together every night? If I were able to complete my degree and work while with you, I would, but I cannot drive four hours each way every day. It is simply not feasible. It is heartbreaking.
So, Sue, Soup, Peep, etc., I love you. You are my soulmate and the best part of my life. You keep me going even when we are apart, as I count the days until I can see you again (12, right now) and cry myself to sleep as I scroll through the thousands of photos I have taken of you. Someone told me that I am not a pet parent because we are not physically together, and I will admit that that hurt. You are my baby, no matter where you are, as I am my mom’s baby, no matter where I am. I will see you in 12 days.
Love,
Mom
