A letter to the cats

You have been with me since the very beginning.

(Okay, actually, you’ve been there since I was 14. But still. A long time.)

You came to my room every morning, learning how to open the door yourself so I wouldn’t have to get up. You climbed into the bed beside me, waking me with meows and cuddles. You freak out when someone comes in the gate, or the doorbell rings. You have made me laugh, and you have taken the stress away without even trying, or even knowing you had to do it.

Growing up with you was worth all the scratches on my arms and legs, the copious amounts of cat hair you left on all my clothes or bedsheets. You are the prime examples of unconditional love. As long as kept feeding you, I was pretty much in.

Leaving you guys to go to Dublin was tough. Leaving to go abroad is a lot harder. We’re all going on in life, and a part of me knows that one day I’ll get on a plane to come visit and you won’t be there to greet me at the door.

I feel as if I need to end on a note that is both confident and positive. But this is just a letter to my furry family.

While I’m away, getting ready for the rest of my life, don’t forget about me. Please don’t let me come home and find that you don’t remember me or that you’re mad at me for leaving.

Take care of yourselves. Eat your food, bathe yourselves, and go on adventures. And don’t dare go on anyone’s bed but mine.


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