7/22/2016
Dear beloved,
I remember the day I first laid eyes on you. A little tuxedo kitten, your fur was a blend of black and white, and your paws looked like you had just stepped in fresh snow. Even your eyebrows were mismatched—one side white, the other black. You were surprisingly playful, attacking the pieces of paper we slipped through the bars of your cage with your too-big paws you had yet to grow into. Even with your kitten proportions not quite right, we could see the regalness in you. They told us the name they had given you was “Spud,” and we knew that did not suit you at all.
My brave boy. That day, you became Lexington to us. That day, you became everything to me.
Those next few hours were spent in a private room, trying to get you further out of your shell. You were such a brave kitten. And I was tense the entire time, hoping you would charm our mom just enough that she would be willing to leave the shelter with a kitten in tow. Momma was worried about a male cat entering a home where a dog was already present, but I knew you were the one. Luckily, my best friend and the relatives on FaceTime knew you were the one too.
We brought you home, and I could not believe I could hold your tiny body in my arms. You continued to be brave even when we threw a new environment, and people, and animals at you. My brave boy. That day, you became Lexington to us. That day, you became everything to me.
7/22/2018
Dear baby boy,
Every day I cannot believe you are mine and I am yours. When you slowly began creeping into my room at night, I knew I had to tread carefully. I had learned the hard way as a child that my parents’ cats did not like their annoying little kids bothering them. Now that I was older, I knew I could not chase you—I needed to wait for you to choose me. Some nights you showed up at the door, but were not yet ready to brave the bed. Instead of snatching you, I let you leave even when it hurt. Whenever we were in the same room, I let you circle my legs before I pet you or picked you up, and I gave you the space to choose. And you did choose me. Somehow, my patience and gentleness paid off and you trust me enough to love you.
You have grown to the perfect size and fit just right in my arms.
I love you so much that I know you. I know your body language enough to know that swishing your tail means you are annoyed, and I know that you run and pretend you don’t want attention, but you secretly want me to hold you in my arms. I know because you let me. You let me scoop you up and rock you back and forth like the baby you are.
You have grown to the perfect size and fit just right in my arms. With your front paws crossed over each other, I rock you and coo at you, and you endure it. I also know that you don’t like when I touch your stomach or your paws, so I don’t. Because when I respect some of your boundaries you let me breach other ones for longer. Even when I finally put you down, you continue to circle my legs, hoping for more petting.
7/22/2020
Dear Lexi,
You were named after the street where Grandma June lived. The home where our mom grew up. That street and that house took in so many cats, but I was only old enough to remember the last two—Jack and Jill. Grandma June left us—and the house—but those two cats remained living pieces of her. Now, we have lost Jill, and we have lost Jack, but your name keeps that connection alive.
Lexington, the perfect name for a knight, if said knight was capricious and afraid of his own shadow.
Your name also represents how regal you are. You take up the entire space on the chair—your paws crossed over each other—as you stare out at your kingdom, the living room. Your long fur is sleek and your tail is curled around your body just so. Lexington, the perfect name for a knight, if said knight was capricious and afraid of his own shadow. Afraid you may be, and yet, you still protect me from cars passing by the window with your low, menacing growls. Lexington, our prince. Your name carries everlasting love, and your being allows us to love you further.
7/22/2022
Dear bubby,
I love the way that you smell. And how soft your forehead is. I will never get sick of kissing your precious little head, even when you get sick of me. I’ll never get sick of staring at you either. No matter the position or mood, you always look perfect to me. There’s this feeling of fullness in my chest when I look at you—of rightness. My eyes drink you in and I am comforted by your presence, even more so when I hold you flush against my chest.
But sometimes I look at you and I imagine not having you here. Sometimes you scratch me or never visit my room at night. Sometimes I am away at school and I have no idea how you’re doing. And when these sometimes happen, I can’t stop the tears from falling. I can’t imagine loving someone or something more than I love you.
No matter how long we are apart—with me worrying you will suddenly tire of me—you still continue to choose me.
My love is so strong that it spills out into these letters. Perhaps I am writing so that I can pretend you are reading my words. Or perhaps I just want to feel as if you are here with me by writing you into existence beside me. Perhaps these letters are too complex even if you could read them, so maybe they are just for me. And that’s okay. This expression of love can just be for me because I can mold my love into something digestible just for you, too.
I wish there was a way for you to outlive me, to outlive all of us. But other times, I am honored that your entire life will be spent with me in it. I am honored to be someone who laid eyes on you seven years ago, and who has treasured you since. But what I am most honored by is that you let me do all of this. No matter how long we are apart—with me worrying you will suddenly tire of me—you still continue to choose me. Your choice is a precious gift.
7/22/2024
Dear my love,
We are always in the kitchen. You are looking up at me. “Meow,” you say. I know you are asking for attention, or for food. But I also know that you are telling me you love me.
“Meow,” I say back. I love you too.
