throwback wednesday

I wanted to share a little piece of writing from this time last year, when the cat and I were only eight weeks into our acquaintance, and just embarking on our outdoor adventure together. The photos are both from our walk a few days ago, ft. the garden’s lovely final show of the season. Stay tuned for how it started, how it’s going.

November 2024

Fall is a bittersweet time to leash train a cat just past halfway through her first year on earth. All kinds of clocks seem to be ticking. Maybe she’s too old. Maybe she hates the cold. Maybe winter wipes out all of our progress. She’s already filling out, losing that kitteny look. Staying small but getting round, unlike the first cat, who was big and lanky and wound up close to 20 pounds.

I used to dream about him, when he was still here. I’d be out in the world, always outside, in a park, in a field, and I’d look down, and he’d be there. The cat. My little lapse in judgement. And I’d be terrified because in reality, there was no way he could be there. Even a trip to the vet was nearly impossible. He could not be there at my feet in the grass, happily keeping me company. Most of what I wanted for him was far out of reach.

It’s been twelve days since the kitten first walked on her leash outside, sixteen since I first took her out in the backpack and watched her stare up, wide-eyed, into a clear blue sky. I’ve spent $75 on three different harnesses and she would 100% rather be naked. For 30 to 45 minutes each day I wander my yard and watch her sniff and perch and pounce and I’m going to find a way to give her as much of the world as she wants. She feels the sun on her face and watches the leaves fall around her and she’s a different cat. She’s more alive somehow. And her curiosity keeps on pushing her further.

November 2025

It’s helpful for me to read that now, one year on. The doubts and worries I had back then are the same doubts and worries I have now, while the first snow of the season falls outside. Is she too old? Are we already up against the lines she won’t cross? What if she hates the winter? Will the cold undo all of our progress?

None of it turned out to be true then. She’s accepted a harness, coats, sweaters. She doesn’t panic when a runner passes the house, doesn’t bolt at the sound of passing cars, only sits and watches them shrewdly. She happily goes out to the street to let children pet her, goes to rub against the neighbors’ legs, watches dogs with intense curiosity. Sometimes, when the mood strikes her, she’ll walk to the end of the block and back. When she does this I am filled with pride.

She’s so good on the leash now I often take her out on a 10 foot small dog retractable, and I’m no longer white knuckling, clutching my end with a vice grip. We’re a team. She comes to check in with me, she stands on my feet and looks up at my face. When I hold tension in the leash, she turns back, sometimes with a complaint, but she listens. I could never have imagined that a year ago. One year from now, who knows.

I’m done worrying about her limitations. She’s just past halfway through her second year on earth, and look how far she’s come already. I’ll be there with her every day, feet in the grass, happily keeping her company.