To Arlo, Who Saved My Life
I was never a cat person. If you had asked me years ago, I wouldn’t have pictured myself living with a cat, let alone loving one. But then, there was you.
I met you when I worked at PetSmart, just another black-and-white tabby in a cage, waiting. I watched people pass you by, their eyes skimming over you like you were invisible. And then one day, you were alone. No siblings. No interest. Just you, sitting there, waiting for someone to come.
I don’t know what made me say it, but I did. I looked at you through the glass and told you, “If no one comes and gets you, I’m gonna take you home.” And no one did. So I kept my end of the deal. Maybe that’s why you’re here for me—because I was there for you first.
But the truth is, Arlo, you were the one who saved me.
There was a time when I lost everything. Everyone. When the world got too quiet and too loud at the same time, and the only thing tethering me to the present was you. You, curling up next to me, pressing your small, warm body against mine, reminding me that I wasn’t alone. You, with your ridiculous obnoxious meows (so threatening…) and headbutts, making sure I got up in the morning because you needed me, and maybe, just maybe, I needed you more.
People talk about soulmates like they only come in human form. But I know better. Because I found one of mine in a black-and-white tabby who shouldn’t have been left behind. A cat who looked at me the same way I looked at him, like we were meant to find each other.
So if I could tell you one thing, Arlo, it would be this:
Thank you for always being there.
Thank you for choosing me back.
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