Gratitude

Last Wednesday evening was one of the worst, if not the worst moment of my life. I faced the real possibility that I would have to let Kenta go because I couldn't afford the surgery that could keep him alive. It was a spur of the moment decision. At least with Mr. Max, Thompson, Theo and Diego-san (who died when I was trying to decide if it was time), I had weeks, months, a year to know their end was near. 

Wednesday morning I left for work and all seemed fine. When I brought Kenta to urgent care that evening, it didn't even dawn on me that I might not bring him back home. But there I was staring at a $4,000 bill and knowing even if he got the surgery to unblock his urinary tract, it might just be a temporary cure. I had a little over $4,000 in my savings account. Not only was I heartbroken about not just paying for the procedure but I was devastated I was even contemplating letting my four year old friend, the one who has made me smile every day I've known him, the one who inspires me to love life as much as he does, go.

The first time I forced Kenta into his carrier to go to his annual vet appointment in 2024 he thrashed against the doors of his cage violently yelling at the top of his lungs (his normal meow is a timid squeak belying his massive size). It wasn't so much being trapped as it was possibly losing the best home of his life. He LOVES his meals. He adores his brother Alias. He's curious about his sister Norma. He loves his living room picture window view of the world passing by. He loves his living room cat tree/bed in another living room window, the one Thompson used to sleep in. He loves looking from the dining room window at the rabbits and birds in the backyard after he eats his dinner. 

I cannot give a cat a bigger compliment than being comparable to my first cat, Mr. Max. But of all the cats I've been lucky enough to know, Kenta most reminds me of Mr. Max. He purrs easily and often. He loves my company but most certainly only on his terms. He loves watching the outside world from the safety of a window view. He doesn't drool when he purrs like Max but Max didn't have a favorite toy like Kenta's catnip stuffed hedgehog, Porky (who might be a porcupine) who he carries around the house until I bring Porky back up to where I think he belongs. Kenta obviously disagrees because he always brings Porky to a different place in the house.

Kenta loves food. So after his dinner I walk upstairs with him to get him from stealing his siblings' meals. He's rewarded with treats. But the best thing is, and I don't know how this started, he won't race up the stairs but match my own steps up the stairs. The few times he's forgotten this and raced up before me, I playfully scolded him and almost always we walk up together. I LOVE THAT and feared with no more treats with him being on a strict diet we'd lose that moment of togetherness. But he seems to be OK getting fed a few morsels of his dried food as treats. I hope this continues. 

One of the last things we went through during my partial hospitalization for depression and anxiety  a couple years ago was to tap into the feeling of gratitude, probably the best antidote for mental health struggles. Take a small moment to be grateful for just the littlest of things... a moment in nature, a small accomplishment, a favorite song, a friend, family, a favorite food... all the little things, moments that we don't think twice about but really should. 

I can't even begin to express how meaningful the support so many of you have shared these past few days has kept me going, has kept my spirits up. I'm grateful for having met and known so many wonderful people during different phases of my life that I'm still in touch with and for those of you currently in my life. I'm grateful you truly understand how my love for Kenta, this random cat, who I adore so deeply because of who he is and what we've shared together the past few years.

I'm truly truly grateful…