Do you believe in love at first sight? I definitely do, because that is exactly what happened with me and my human Clarabelle when we found each other two and a half years ago. Until then, I had experienced a life of heartbreak and false love. My first human family brought me to the shelter when I was just a little kitten. They already had a house full of cats and didn’t want to deal with another crying mouth. Then my next human returned me after only a few months. She was too busy to play with me and left me alone a lot of the time.
I was back in the shelter again, this time for the longest, most miserable stretch of my life. The vets said I needed a special diet that was very expensive, so most humans, even though they were nice to me and cuddled me, didn’t want to take me home with them. I was very sad most of the time. I kept hoping that someone would take me away from the cold, noisy shelter, but they never did. They would play with me and snuggle me until they saw the sign on my cage alerting them to my health problems, and then they would always back away, turning their affection to some other, less expensive cat.
So that’s where I stayed for a long, lonely year, always getting my hopes up and always having my heart broken. Then, one day, after so many days of hoping and waiting, my forever human came. I had been sitting in the lap of one of the shelter workers, and she had been saying kind things to me to keep my spirits up. My forever human spoke to her, asking for a cat that would be cuddly and sweet and all the things that I already was. The shelter worker offered me, and my forever human sat down beside us. She had a soft, gentle voice and a soft, gentle manner, and I knew in that moment I wanted her as my forever human. I had to win her heart before it was too late — I leaped into her lap, throwing my paws around her neck, pressing my face against hers. I purred as loud as I could purr. My human, my human! And she put her arms around me, and I knew from her eyes that she loved me too.
Then came the true test — she saw the warning sign on my cage, the curse of my affliction. She asked about it. They explained. The numbers sent darkness flashing through her face. $80 cat food. Vet bills. Worry. This was the point at which the humans would leave. They would smile hesitantly at me, remove themselves, and walk away. But she didn’t. She held onto me. She kept her arms around me.
Eventually, she had to let me go. It was nearly closing time, and the adoption window for the day was closed. But I knew from her touch and her cuddles that she had fallen as much in love with me as I had with her. As she was leaving, she saw another woman finding me, another woman leaning over to love me. I had my eyes on my human. She darted back inside, began to pet me again, and said to the other woman: “He’s so sweet, isn’t he? I would love to take him, but his food is so expensive…” Perfect. The other woman made a disgusted face, immediately withdrew. My human hugged me again. She would be back. I knew she would.
The next day dawned more glorious than any other day. She came, my forever human, just like I knew she would. From the other room, I heard the staff saying to her: “Ma’am, we don’t have everything open yet–you’ll have to wait until noon, is that okay?”
And she sat and waited. And waited. And she let everybody know she had come for me, only me.
After the longest wait of my life, which felt longer than the year I had been in the shelter, they brought me out to her, and we were finally together and going home. My human, my human, my human. I finally had a human to call my own, and she was my forever human. I knew she would never leave me or give me up. She snuggled me and cuddled me and gave me a million kisses on my little head. She is still my forever human, and she always will be.