So I Did A Thing: A Letter to My First Baby

Published: July 22, 2020

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“He was the first thing I could truly call my own.”

This line opened a soulful, mournful, raw post shared by fellow Nashvillian two days ago. How I came across the blogger’s feed escapes me, but a picture in the upper part of her profile capturing her palm with a tiny paw in it struck a curious cord with me that needed to know more.

As I read on, I quickly learned that this young woman, just a few years my elder, recently lost her cat, Clyde. On any other day, surrounding any other topic, I would have read this post, reflected for a moment on my remorse for her loss, and never given it a second thought.

However, this wasn’t a normal day and that wasn’t normal post. I instead read each word multiple times aloud, sat back in my seat, and sobbed like a baby. Only able to be comforted by the soft “head boop” from my little angle, Tito.

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Recently, I did a thing. I became the legal guardian of a five month old kitten. My family and I began fostering him and his sister, Peaches - adopted name Annie, when they were around six weeks old. My unsuccessful search for a permanent home away from myself is called formally a “foster fail”. It’s one of the few moments in my life I have ever been proud to fail epically.

Tito came to me unable to eat by himself from malnutrition, unable to hold his head up from exhaustion, and lethargic from a severe upper respiratory infection. To say I was in love, and simultaneously terrified for the long journey ahead, would be an understatement.

Life quickly became consumed with 2am feedings, 4am runs to the litterbox, and 6am sick calls, yet I would do it all over again tomorrow in a heartbeat.

Well, maybe not every wake up call... mama needs her rest.

But I would do it all again to have the blessing of watching my little boy revive, recuperate, grow, and thrive.

Through this process, the word “adoption” loomed in the distance as a hopeful and unclear word. Despite set-backs, close calls, and long nights, Tito’s day came. And, unable to part with him, I, alone and secretly, took full ownership.

I proudly marched into Petsmart, paperwork and cash in hand, and adopted Tito on the spot. After signatures and finances were in order, I immediately began searching the isles for bedding, water bowls, and the rest of the fun-filled items a kitten may need. As I began walking, I started adding up the costs.

“Ten dollars for a food bowl? You’re joking!”

“Oh my gosh that’s outrageous, he can just play with a ball of tinfoil he doesn’t need an eight dollar mouse!”

Needless to say this verbal banter between my inner college kid on a budget and the resounding cry of the sudden weight of the life that was my responsibility began to intensify.

Honestly, I don’t know how I got a collar with his name on it, or got home really. The next thing I know I am on my back porch ranting to my mom about how Petsmart is ripping people off with their inflated food bowl prices.

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But here’s the thing. I am willing to bet the blogger who wrote those bitter sweet words about her first cat would give anything to buy an overprices food bowl for her baby if it meant another day with him.

So yes, things are going to be sticky, or pricey, but that’s what love is about. It’s about living with the bad because the good so heavily outweighs it.

Tito has my whole heart, and if that includes my whole wallet too, I’m ok with it.

So to my Tito, I love that I get to watch the amazement in your eyes as an airplane flies overhead or the kids next door play frisbee. And baby you, in turn, show me what it means to live grateful and thankful. Thankful for warm towels fresh out of the dryer, the potential of a ball of yarn, and the content that is a nap in the warm rays beneath the window.

Tito, I know this world is scary. There’s loud dogs and fast cars, but I believe we’re going to be ok. In fact, I know we are.