I will always wait for you.

When you brought my sister and I home from the loud and crowded house in which we were born, I knew nothing of the world you lived in. By degrees I learned that you, too, were a child and growing up in an unfamiliar environment. Your mother, our mother, was kind to us and kept us fed and healthy. Though I did not know why, you were only at home intermittently. The weekdays we would spend together, playing and learning and sleeping. The weekends you would leave, to where I did not know. I waited patiently, and you always returned to me.

As I grew you did the same, from a small boy to a teenager to a young man. Myself from a kitten to a timid adult house cat. Your interests in the world around you were ever changing. The programs we watched turned from cartoons and cheap action to sports and drama, and yet your love for me had never wavered or changed. It remained, even if your presence did not. The days moved slowly but the incremental changes added up over time. A new family moving into the home, a new cat added to the mix, the inexplicable loss of my sister seemingly out of nowhere. Even through this, your love for me stayed the same.

For a time there was not much waiting to be done. Your weekend trips ceased, and the only waiting to be done was during your days while you were in school, and even so you returned each day at the same time and this I came to expect. I saw over the years a change in you both physically, for you had grown tall, and mentally as well. The reserved and pleasant boy that grew along side me had become a confident and well-spoken man. I watched as you navigated groups of strangers in the home with tact and intelligence, choosing the perfect string of words to break the air and bring about laughter and reverie to them all. Then as the nights grew long and all that remained was us two, you took me into your arms to pet me and softly console me with words of love and adoration. I would always wait for you.

Time droned on in the way that it always had, and with it more changes came. My body slowed and my fur lost it’s pristine sheen, but you did not notice or care. You loved me all the same. Our mother and father got new pets, two dogs this time, and while I could keep up with them they did not offer the rest and relaxation that I had become accustomed to. I found shelter in the basement, where they were not allowed to be. In here I found I spent most of my time, but it did not matter. Your room was in the basement, and the knowledge that I could be myself with you at all times was enough to satisfy me. It continued on like this for some time until one summer you began packing up the room, taking the things which I had become so used to seeing from the walls and shelves. What remained was a solitary pillow, my pillow, left in it’s usual place. You left me with tears in your eyes and whispered sweet words to me, but I did not know or understand why. I would wait for you all the same.

I waited longer than ever before for our next meeting. By the time I saw you again the air was cool and what leaves remained on the trees were red and yellow. You spent most of your time at home with mother and father, and left for an evening to see other friends from your childhood. I still waited. You returned the next day and spent an evening with me, a full evening like we had shared so many times before and during which I savored the feeling of our bodies close together. As morning came I felt your body shudder while you held me close, and again I saw the tears in your eyes as you told me how you loved me. You left again, and again I was left to wait.

This pattern repeated itself again perhaps a month later, you spent time with the family and and friends who were in your life yet still found some time to spend alone with me. It was good to be with you. I wished for it to be forever. And again the pattern repeated that you would leave for months before returning for a few short days before you had to leave again. Years passed in this way, our meetings brief yet our connection no different than it had ever been before. I loved seeing you, and you said you loved seeing me each time. I would always wait for you.

It came to pass that after some years of this pattern your things returned to your room by boxes that stacked in the corner. I loved boxes! And I loved you being home. It felt like a return to normalcy for that summer. Our time was filled with each other and the love we shared was growing with each day in the summer sun. But the boxes never unpacked. As the cool breeze picked up the boxes were once again removed, and I was left in your room with a new pillow, in the same spot it had always been. Where you were going, I did not know. I knew that I would still wait.

Your visits became less frequent, yet predictable. Each year as the snow coated the ground and the colorful lights were strung in the house you would return. Sometimes for weeks, sometimes for days. But you were back, and you made a point to see me. My body was old and slow, my eyes hazy. I had no energy to run and play like I once did but it did not matter to you. The time we spent together was tranquil, serene. I lay in your arms or on your lap and we would sleep together or you would tell me stories about your new life. You told me how you missed me and wished to take me with you, but were worried if I could make such a long trip across the country. It did not matter, for I would always wait for you.

Two summers after your room was emptied you returned, and at which time I was too old to jump with joy at your sight. My eyes lit as you entered our home, for this was not according to your usual schedule. You told me it was time for a new chapter, and told me loving remarks as you brushed my tattered fur. That day you took me from the basement of our old home and we drove far. After some hours we entered a building that was unfamiliar to me, but I smelled your scent in the air and knew it was okay. The living room of this apartment had windows that were larger than any of those in our old home and which stretched from wall to wall. I saw on the couch there was a familiar sight sitting in the sunlight, my old pillow. We were together at last.

My days in this new apartment were spent leisurely, for again I was too old to play. I slept on the couch, basking in the sun, and you were always there with me. I would awake from a nap to find you sitting by my side on the couch, and with the assurance that it was not a dream I calmly went back to sleep. You brushed my fur daily, for I could not groom myself as thoroughly as I once had, and I was grateful for this.

You showered me with adoration, even when I saw distraught and worry on your face as I grew thinner. After a year in this peaceful life with you I awoke one morning to find that my legs could not support me. I tried to stand but could not do so for more than a few moments before collapsing again. You were loving and kind but I could see the worry on your face and I heard it in your voice. You told me everything would be okay, and I knew it would be so. You placed me into my carrier and we walked in the warm morning sun to a building we had been to a few times before. One with sterile walls and cold air. I heard as you spoke with the official-looking women in a pained and quiet voice and I could tell that it was about me. I was taken away for a few moments and was scared as they pricked my arm with a tube of some kind, but was relieved after being brought back to you. You held me in your arms and looked into my eyes, petting me and telling me how much you loved me. How I wished I could tell you my love for you in words that you could understand. The women came back in and I soon felt a cold stream go through my body. It became hard to stay awake, but as I looked into your eyes I felt the calm that was there countless times before when we were together. You again told me you loved me and I saw a tear fall onto your lap in front of me. I knew you would wait there until I woke up.