When I was younger ALL I wanted was a cat that was going to love me as much as I loved them. Finally, I found one, but not because he was what I was looking for, rather, I was what he was looking for. Yup, you heard it here first: my cat picked me, and I didn’t have a say in it (well, I guess technically I did, but it was love at first sight on my end too).
But no, there was no fluffy bean under the tree with a big bow on its collar. That’s not how it works in the Santopadre house. I opened a card, expecting literally anything other than a kitten, but to my surprise, written across the inside was a note, detailing that we were going to go look for kittens at the local shelters.
I’m pretty sure I spent the rest of the day on petfinder.com, mapping out shelters to visit and praying that my new best friend would be waiting for me behind every door. Realistically, I would have been perfectly happy with any cat, but at the same time, I wanted to know for sure that the cat was going to love me and not someone else in my house (re: Stink, who I just wanted to hug and hold all the time, but she only liked my mom).
A few days after Christmas, we went to search for the kitten of my dreams. When we got to the first shelter, my mom taught me what to do. She told me, “walk very slowly by all the cages. Don’t look in. Don’t pay attention to them, no matter how much you want to. The one who grabs you is the one who comes home with us.” Genuinely, I thought it was weird. That was a lot of pressure, but I did it anyway. I walked slowly by every cage, but not a single cat reached out. I was sad, but my mom reminded me that my cat just wasn’t at that shelter. We must have gone to 20 or so shelters before going to the one right in our hometown, and it was the last shelter on our list.
I was pretty disappointed at this point, having seen so many cute kittens that I would have loved to take home with me, but I stayed true to what my mom said because she told me that that was how she got Stink (who again, loved my mom unconditionally, no matter what). If I wanted my cat, I needed to be patient.
When I walked through the shelter in my hometown, and no cats reached out, I was heartbroken. I thought that I wasn’t going to get a cat after all of that and that there was no cat that wanted me (pretty deep, but maybe there is just more to unpack here since I was in middle school and suffering from severe anxiety and depression around this same time). As we were getting ready to leave, we noticed two kittens in another room. The pair had been quarantined there since other animals in the shelter were sick (these two were healthy, and the people working the shelter didn’t want them to get sick). There was another family in the room, so we waited until they left, before heading inside the closet sized room.
I stepped into the room first and passed the kitten in the first cage who came to the front of the cage to watch me. I stopped in front of the second cage, just out of paws reach, and out shot an energetic little kitten arm. He meowed and reached for me as far as his little arm could stretch. I lifted my hands and let him grab me (his little kitten claws were sharp and cut my hands up but I didn’t care). I told my parents, without hesitation that we had found him, and the lady working at the time took our application to adopt him, and the little kitten in the first cage as well, since she had latched on to my very unsuspecting dog-loving brother and wouldn’t let go.
Phoebe and Jay Jay both came home with us in the end, and to this day, Jay Jay is my best friend. He sleeps with me every night, gives the best kitty kisses, and enjoys taking naps on my face. Everyone else says he is a little devil, but to me, he is the sweetest lovebug who loves me unconditionally, just like I love him.
