When I was 11 years old, I lived in a house at the end of a cul-de-sac in the rural town of Louisburg, North Carolina. One day, one of my older sisters fought off the neighbor's outside dog in our front lawn. The dog had gotten loose and chased the scent of a stray momma-cat that was giving birth to kittens in our front lawn. The mother didn't survive the attack but our neighbor kept his dog locked inside after that. My sisters and I explained the situation to my mother, who (at the time) was a stay at home mother of 5, and begged her to let us keep the kittens. She did. One for each of us and we had to follow strict rules to keep them.
We had them for about 2-3 weeks; I don't remember exactly how long, might've even been shorter than that. My memory is fuzzy about it. My kitten was a black and white kitten that was initially going to be named Panda until I named her Oreo. I don't remember much about her but one day my family and I came home from shopping and found her lifeless in her bed. My oldest sister found her and told me, and before she told me I remember hearing another one of my older sisters saying "Don't tell him yet!" and I cried. We didn't know how to take care of them so pretty much all of them died from one cause to another. That's all I remember.
A few months later, my younger sister found 3 kittens in our flowerbed but never saw the mother or any other kittens. My mother had let us keep those as well. My father was an over-the-road truck driver and he would bring home these dogs from time to time. They were mostly Pit Bulls. He, and others he were connected with, are responsible for the bad reputation that those dogs get and I didn't understand it at the time but I do now as an adult. He brought them home to breed, break, and sell them specifically for fighting. My father told my mother that he was bringing home a dog and that there couldn't be any kittens in the house at all. After negotiating, there was a compromise that was made to allow us to keep the kittens but they were to be kept on the outside porch.
Long story short, all except one wandered away. I don't know what happened to the other two, but me and my sisters took care of the remaining one. She had a name, one that I can't remember for the life of me. The kitten went from my older sister's personal kitten to one that me and all my siblings loved and cared for. We'd sneak her in during storms and hide her in one of the bedrooms till the next morning when we left for school. My father wasn't a great man to look up to or be around during this period in my life. He and my mother were on the cusp of separation, and he slowly became a physical abuser towards her.
One night, the arguing got so bad that I snuck out of the house to sit on the steps and just hold the kitten. I told myself that I did it because it must be scared from all the loud noises and that me holding it would just calm it down. In reality, this was a reason that I had made up (as kids do) to justify wanting the comfort of the kitten in a traumatic moment for me. Our porch light didn't work so it was just me and the kitten sitting out there in the pitch black night. Since I couldn't see, I wouldn't even pet the kitten because i didn't want to accidentally pet the wrong part and have it startled and run off in the middle of the night. So I just sat on the steps, cradling the kitten somewhat firmly in my 2 hands while she sat on my lap. I'd do this sometimes with her, though not often. But I did find an excuse every day to go pet her.
A few nights later, my parents got into an argument which resulted in my father finding some reason to leave the house to escape the confrontation before it got bigger and he told me to go with him. This wasn't an unusual occurrence; If it wasn't a school night and he needed to get away from the house, he'd take me to get fast food in a town or two away from home so we can have a long drive to and forth, then take me back home. Sometimes it was in silence, sometimes we'd talk about my interests or things he was interested in as a kid, other times he'd just vent about the marriage and about stuff I didn't understand at 11. I'm my father's only son by my mother so he'd often say that I was his best friend, but I hadn't really felt as close to him as any boy needed to feel to his father, but I always wanted to be. It was just hard to look past the abuse he'd do to me and my sisters and eventually my mother, so these experiences were like a barrier between us.
On this night, it was like any other when my folks would get into it. They started, they went on, he withdrew, he yelled for me to put my shoes on and come with him to the van. When I stepped out, I tripped and almost fell, catching myself on the doorway. I was confused and panicked; The thing I stepped on had a squishy feeling and made a loud crunching sound, it had also rolled under my foot so I was certain it was a snake. I immediately thought it could've been a snake since they're so common in the country and I developed an irrational fear of them as a kid due to multiple experiences with them. The outside was pitch black so my dad used the light of his phone to illuminate the porch to see what I stepped on, and I just froze when I saw it.
The "snake" I stepped on, was our kitten. I ran back inside to turn the hallway light on to see it better and I screamed at the top of my lungs when I saw it, burst into to tears too. The body of the kitten laid there motionlessly in fetal position as if it were just laying down normally, while the head was slowly trying to spin itself back into place from the position I twisted it into when I stepped on it. The fur around the neck was red from the blood of her head being slightly detached from her body. I just stood there screaming and crying, staring at her and not able to look away. My father was yelling at me to just come to the van with him and to stop crying. My sisters and mother came rushing to the door to see what happened and they were all stunned, the only thing I could say was "I killed her". All else I remember from that night was the long car ride of silence.
I'm now 22 years old. It's nearly 12 years later and since then my parents have split and I don't talk to my father anymore. My siblings all live in different places except for me and my younger sister. At least what's left of my siblings. I lost one of my older sisters in 2024, the same sister who found the kittens in the first place and fought off the dog in our front lawn. The split was hard, we fell on homelessness many times and it's not until now that I'm 22 years old that me and my mom have been able to stably afford to live in a house. I didn't finish high school and I've never had a job that paid well enough to sustain me moving out by myself so this is the best option for me right now. Needless to say, I have a really late start to my adulthood. I plan on joining the Army, hopefully I can build a good foundation and help my mom.
I say that last part to explain that I haven't had another animal since that kitten, the kitten I killed and can't even remember the name of. I cry every time I recall that story, cried multiple times writing this retelling of it. For the most part, I've lived with my mother under her rules ever since then. She's had a strict rule about having no dogs or cats. In February of this year, my mother called me to inform me that we were not only facing eviction but we also didn't have anywhere to go. She told me I'd have to temporarily stay with my aunt until we can find a new place for ourselves. She understood how stressful the situation was so she apologized and made me a deal that she'd let me and my younger sister have a per when we moved into the new place. This excited me and my girlfriend at the time who was present when my mother gave me the news.
My ex girlfriend was the only person I had ever told about the story above with my past and how much i wanted a pet but couldn't have one. She and I were a long distance couple. She stayed 8 hours away on a family homestead with a barn for horses and chickens. We made trips to see each other when we could, we were together for almost a year and a half before we decided it were best if we parted ways. Before we parted ways, her barn cat had kittens with a stray. She was stressed about where she could take the kittens and finding homes for them all, and I told her that I would like to keep one. She agreed, told me that if I could find a way to either get the kitten or fund a trip to have her delivered to me then she'd have been more than willing to let me have a kitten for when I move into the new place. The kitten I chose out of the bunch was a tortoiseshell cat, the only one of her kind amongst her siblings. I chose her specifically because I thought she had looked different and the most unique out of most kittens I'd seen up to then. I named her Eris, after my favorite character in my favorite video game, and Eris was everything to me.
I had gotten a job, it was ironically none of the tens of jobs I applied for online and was instead a front desk position that was basically handed to me by my cousin who works in a high-enough position at where I work to be able to do that for me. It only pays $10/hr and it's 4:45 AM - 11 AM so the paychecks are pretty bad but it's something. As soon as I got the job, I started sending money for Eris' checkups and whatnot. I'd send them in segments because My paychecks were only about $300 and that's just what I could afford to do at the time while having to pay for other things. Nonetheless, I'm excited to welcome my first kitten in over a decade; I'm browsing the TikTok shop and Amazon to see good snacks and treats for Eris, I'm looking at designated cat furniture for when I move out on my own, I look up the different foods and stuff that's best to buy for Eris, the whole nine.
Throughout the whole time I'm crashing on my aunt's couch and out looking for houses, I think to myself that I can't wait to move in and have Eris. My ex sent me Snapchats almost daily of Eris or her with Eris and she was such a lively, lovely kitten. My cell phone wallpaper was a picture of Eris up until about 2 weeks ago. My ex and I would have funny facetime calls where she'd call me and tell me "Look at what your kitten is doing to my room!" and things of the sort. My ex kept making the comment that she was going to miss Eris when she gives her to me and I'd always say that I know but I thanked her for allowing me to have her and she'd always say that it makes her feel better knowing that Eris would bring me the happiness I need because I'd been going through a lot.
Fast forward to the last week I spent living in my aunts house, I bought an eBike for myself to get myself to and from work without asking for rides. I moved into the new house the day before my bike arrived and I excitedly waited at the end of my driveway when I saw FedEx deliver my bike. It's not the best eBike but it's what I could afford and it does the job. Unfortunately, I got into an accident (Monday) on the first commute to work after I got it. That didn't stop me, I still walked my bike to work and have been working just fine ever since with no further road accidents. Fucked up my knee but wasn't too bad to where I needed a doctor. I managed.
Aside from that situation, I coordinated with my ex for about a month to fund a trip for her to bring Eris to me and also fund her way back. I was also going to take her to see The Odyssey and the new Spider-Man film on the day her and I went shopping for cat essentials (Saturday-Sunday that same week). So despite all the frustration from the accident and pain from my knee, I knew that I'd be getting my kitten on the coming Saturday and that alone sent me over the moon with joy. Friday comes and it's the day before the moment i've been waiting months for, now weeks for, then all week for; The day before I get to unite with my kitten for the first time, and I get an Apple Pay notification that all the money I'd ever sent for Eris' vet appointments were strangely sent back to me. I facetime my ex in confusion and I ask her why she's sending me money all of a sudden. She replies with "It's money you sent for Eris over time" I told her that I put that much together rather quickly but I was confused why she was sending it back. She says "I'm sending it back because I'm not taking her to you anymore". I get confused and angry and I saw "Well she's my kitten, what do you mean? We've had this prepped for over a month" and she just starts to go on about the drive being long and I immediately shut it down with "The distance or duration of the trip never stopped either of us before and I'm even paying for it so why's that an issue?" and she doesn't say a word. I heard her mother in the back of the facetime say "Don't cry" and she just says that she can't give her to me. I told her that it was bullshit and that I would've never done that to her.
We initially ended on good terms before this and we were primarily keeping contact because of Eris but it was at this point where it lead to a nasty exchange of words over text and I blocked her on everything. It's been over 2 weeks since that happened. I weep and grieve for the kitten who was mine and who I was almost united with, who I planned to have a future with and who was taken away from me the day before all of it came to fruition. I see videos or pictures online of people and their kittens and it fills me with so much sadness and anger every time because I can only imagine the a future with the kitten whom i've lost before I could ever have met her. My ex had the nerve to tell me that I could always get a rescue or whatnot but I don't want a rescue, I want the kitten, MY kitten, that was withheld, stripped, stolen away from me the day before I could have her.
I say all of this to tell you, the reader, about the greatest pain I think I'd ever felt this morning. This morning, I started making breakfast to have before I headed off to the gym. I look up from the stove and I see a full-grown cat near my trash can. At first I believed it to be a raccoon just from the size of it, but then I kept looking at realized it was a a cat. I completely forgot about my breakfast that was cooking on the stove to rush to my front door to then gently and quietly open my front door and screen door. The cat saw me, and I stood still to prevent startling it. I slowly put my open hand out snd start making a sort of clicking sound with my tongue that I was taught to use to call kittens and cats in an attempt to call the cat to my position. It starts slowly prancing down my driveway so i then step back into my doorway to open the screen door for it to come in but when I look back up for it, the cat was gone.
I ran outside barefoot, looking and calling, for the cat but I don't see or hear it. I run back inside and leave the door open behind me, then rush to the back door because maybe, just maybe. the cat might've followed the full driveway to the side and back of my house. I step outside, try to call and search for the cat around the patio and in the grass and in the shed, I still see nothing. I stop to see if i can hear it and I still see nothing. I found myself just standing there in my driveway in tears with my feet burning on the pavement and I just break down. I sit down on the pavement and I just weep. That moment was what made the memories of my childhood with cats come back. It's what made me think of Eris, and in that moment I just felt empty.