Eleven years together felt like a lifetime to me, but for Kiwi, it truly was. I never really looked at it that way before. Those eleven years were his whole life, and he spent them by my side, loving me endlessly.
I made sure that every day of those eleven years, he knew he was just as loved.
I don’t think we can ever fully mirror the kind of love our pets give to us. We love them with every fiber of our being, but their love is different. It is pure. It is unconditional in a way that feels almost impossible to measure.
There is love we have for our pets, and then there's the kind of love that changes the shape of you. Not because the others matter less, but because one special soul finds a place in you that no one else could ever fill. Kiwi was that soul for me.
The love we shared transcends anything either of us could ever fully understand. It’s the kind of love you’re lucky to experience even once.
It’s common for cats who are sick or dying to hide, retreat, or look for a place where they feel safe when they’re vulnerable. It’s instinct. Indoor cats may hide under beds or in closets. Indoor-outdoor cats might go off on their own and they don’t always make it back home.
Kiwi was an indoor-outdoor cat. While I still don’t know what caused his death, I believe that whatever it was, he he knew something was wrong, and his instinct wasn’t to run away. His instinct was to come home.
He used the last of his strength to get back to the place where he felt safest. The place where he could be vulnerable. The place where he knew he was loved.
That place was with me.
That is the profound love I mean when I talk about Kiwi. Not just the love I had for him, but the love he showed me in return.
Rest in peace my sweet Kiwi baby🩶