The Cat Who Chose Me 🐾

This week’s blog is for the animal lovers — especially the cat people.

Even if cats aren’t usually your thing, you’re still welcome to read along, because this is really a story about comfort, timing, and the little beings who choose us when we need it most.

Let me introduce Kitty, my cat.

I know… very original. She had a few different names to start out with, but somehow this one stuck.

It was a cold November day when I went with some friends to the SPCA. They were looking for a kitten and I was along for the ride, hoping for a bit of “cat therapy.” I had lost my own cat a couple of weeks earlier, one of my horses a few weeks before that, and my life in general, at that time, was unraveling faster than I could keep up with.

The SPCA was hosting an event called “Meow-vember.” They were overrun with cats because of a sudden cold snap. I wandered from room to room, visiting with various kitties, reminding myself that I was just there for cat therapy. It’s said a cat will choose it’s owner, and although I came across many friendly faces, not one had shown full interest in me. Each one tugged at my heartstrings though, and, as tempting as it was, I had easily avoided taking a cat home that day.

Or so I thought.

While my friends were finishing adoption paperwork for their kitten, I noticed a room at the end of the hall that I hadn’t been in. I stepped inside, sat down, and waited. I barely had time to settle before a little black cat leapt onto my lap, curled up with her paws hanging over my arms, closed her eyes, and started purring.

Her fur was soft and plush, and her eyes were a beautiful blue-green I had never seen before in a cat. They reminded me of the colours found in a paua shell, so bright and vibrant.

My heart melted.

Black cats have always been my favourite. They’re statistically the least likely to be adopted, and I’ve always had a soft spot for them. After a few minutes with this tiny purring black ball glued to me, curiosity got the better of me and I stepped outside the room to read her profile.

The very first thing I saw was her name: Ronda.

I remember saying aloud, “You’ve got to be kidding me”. I wasn’t looking for a cat, and I certainly wasn’t in a place where bringing one home made much sense. But this little one had come straight to me, she was black, and we shared a name. That was it. She was coming home with me.

She settled in immediately, informing my dog that she was now the boss. Over time, they became best friends — snuggling together, playing with each other, or just sitting at a window looking outside together. She even came on car rides. I’d pack up the dog and the cat together, and off we’d go on little road trips. She walked on a leash, proudly exploring the outdoors with all the curiosity only a cat can have.

I’ve since had to say goodbye to that dog, too. And in the spring of this year, got a puppy. Kitty is getting used to having a dog in the house again, but she maintains her “boss” status without question.

Over the years, she’s brought me so much joy… and the occasional frustration (like using furniture as a scratching post — part and parcel of owning a cat). But more than anything, she has been a companion of acceptance, affection, and grounding.

Cat owners know that when a cat chooses to sit with you, you don’t move — no matter how uncomfortable you are. Often, when Kitty settles beside me, rhythmically purring, I realise she’s giving me permission to slow down. To be still. To breathe. To just be present. It’s her way of saying, It’s okay to stop. Sit with me for a moment.

At times, she snores. Not delicately — but with full confidence. I find it cute and comforting. Her snores have always felt like a reminder that we’re safe, we’re home, and it’s okay to rest.

This week marked thirteen years since Kitty’s “Gotcha Day”. She’s older now, but still agile, still intuitive, and still brings me the same comfort she did that first day at the SPCA.

One of the cutest things about her getting older is the way she occasionally grows a white whisker or two, always on the left side of her face. They appear out of nowhere and stand out against her black fur. Somehow they make her look even more distinguished, like a tiny old soul who has earned every bit of her wisdom.

Kitty’s been the one steady thing in my life for the past thirteen years. I still don’t have everything figured out — not even close — but during some of my hardest times, she has been the quiet comfort that has kept me going.

She’s a special little girl — a gift I’m endlessly grateful for.
It was meant to be 🐈‍⬛

~ Rhonda ~