About four years ago, I met Lewis at the pub where he worked. We fell in love instantly, and I was shocked at how much I could love another person. We spent all of our time together, and I learned so many things from him.
Once, we visited a lovely country town called Trentham, in Victoria, Australia. As we were leaving, we stopped at a quirky looking furniture and trinkets shop. Lazily, I stayed in the car while Lewis went in. After a few minutes, he came back to the car to tell me that I had to come in and see something.
I was delighted to find a few tiny kittens sitting on a bench. I had always been a cat-lover, and dreamed of owning a cat. One of the owners looked at us and said, "You can have one, if you like." I looked at Lewis with love and hope in my eyes. He nodded and said, "Of course we can get one." We both were drawn to a gorgeous short-haired black cat with white markings. We adopted him, and I named him Trent, after his hometown.
Trent, Lewis, and I shared a home with some housemates for a few months before things went south between Lewis and me. He left, and I was bedridden with misery. The only thing that gave me any happiness was my sweet Trent. He was kind and independent, and often would come in and check on me before disappearing again.
I was crazy about Trent! He was my first cat. I would write poems about him, talk to all of my friends about him, and my Facebook profile picture was always of the two of us. I would only rise to feed him and play with him. Eventually, my family intervened and moved me back home, which I agreed to on the condition that Trent came, too.
Trent adjusted well to his new home. It was much larger, and oftentimes he would disappear for hours on end, running around the streets. I would have preferred to have him home, but I knew his independence was important to him.
Months passed, and I couldn’t shake the sadness of losing Lewis. I feared I would love him forever, and I would wet Trent with tears, telling him about how much I missed his daddy.
One terrible day, I received a phone call in the morning from the Animal Emergency vet. They told me that Trent had been hit by a car, and he had been killed instantly. I was beyond devastated. I screamed and cried, and called Lewis. He was deeply saddened by my news, and offered to come and comfort me. I was too distraught to see anybody, so declined his offer.
During the months that followed, Lewis and I spoke occasionally. It was very hard for me to see him, knowing he had a new partner, but he was always very kind to me. Lewis had truly loved Trent, and leaving him had been very hard. As a result, Lewis adopted his own cat, Ginderella Stripe. I was scared of getting another cat; the pain of losing Trent had been so much to handle.
Eventually, years later, I adopted a beautiful cat named Cleo. She was very kind and affectionate, often following me around and talking to me in her own way. It was odd when I realized that Cleo looked very much like Lewis’s cat, Gin!
Lewis ended up in a hard situation and needed somewhere to live, and I invited him and Gin into my home. At first, Gin did not like Cleo much at all, though Cleo was very excited to have a new friend. It wasn’t long before the two cats became the closest of friends, and before Lewis confessed that of course he had always loved me, too. We soon fell back into our great love, and began a new life together.
It has been about three months, and Lewis and Gin are still living with us. I like to think that Cleo and Gin are both sisters of Trent, and that our little family is very special. Every day I feel so thankful, and I can’t help thinking that, somehow, our Trent worked his magic to help reunite Lewis and I, and to give his sisters the chance to love and care for one another.
About the author: Danielle Morgan is an active pharmacy worker and a crazy cat lady in every way. Her home is a shrine to the felines she loves so dearly. It includes cat posters, pictures, books, mugs, and clothes — she is one purrfectly happy female! She loves nothing more than to come home to Cleo waiting for her at the front door after a busy day.
We confess — we’ve got many more Cathouse Confessionals:
Our Most-Commented Stories