No. I don’t want her. She’s adorable. I still don’t want her. My grandmother raises an eyebrow. Maybe I’ll hold her for a bit. My grandmother smiles knowingly as I sigh in acceptance.
It’s not that I lack compassion, I just don’t want this responsibility. Ok, I’m scared. I’ve never raised anything before. I killed a cactus. How am I supposed to keep this cuteness alive?
How does one even start potty training? The house needs safe proofing. I am not ready for this long-term commitment. She needs a bed. Panic rises.
My grandmother steadies me. I have help and can do this. One step at a time. Pick a name.
Looking at her her sleeping face makes me smile. She nuzzles my hand and I pull her closer.
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No one knows what happened to her mother. Weak cries alerted a passerby and she was brought to my grandmother. The orphans are always brought to my grandmother. They usually stay a few nights while a permanent solution is sought.
Why this one was given to me? I’ve helped with the others – bring some food, clean up after. Always fleeting interactions that don’t allow bonds to form.
I can’t think of a name. Grandma says not to force it. Bed first. She’s definitely not sleeping with me. I could crush her. Also, distance – I am not ready.
The nights blur – feeding, holding, playing, cleaning, repeating. My world becomes her.
I am exhausted. She sleeps and I lay down to nap. I awake to warmth on my back. Turning, there she is with open eyes that snatch my soul.
My smile is surrender. Ok baby, mama’s here. What would be a good name for a kitten?
