This morning, a ‘Kitty’s birthday’ notification popped up on my phone. I remember setting an annual reminder for it a year or two back. After a number of times checking his Humane Society estimated birth month and year, I settled on the 25th of April.

Check out all his angles @kitt.ygram.

My cat, Kitty, as a youngster, peering his tiny head and ears over a pillow.

On his fourth birthday, I feel overwhelmed with gratitude for this little guy, minus the fact he’s interrupted me writing this 3 times to let him out on the balcony.

Before settling in San Antonio, he also traveled with me from our home in DC to Chicago, where he lived a nocturnal life in my parents’ house to avoid the 3 dogs. In DC, he resided first with me in Petworth with a roommate. It was here we learned that Kitty was in fact a cat who fetched. Despite my working long hours at the time, his rambunctiousness flourished. Our reunions after a late shift were always glorious, filled with CVS-bought mouse toys and Tarzan-like swings from my out-of-closet clothes rack.

We moved to Dupont Circle, residing in a studio apartment. I worked even more extremely long hours here than before. Then, finally, we made it to our last DC-residence, a 375-square-foot house-turned 4-tenant apartment quarters.There, we shared a staircase with our beloved second-floor neighbor. Kitty spent many a night racing up and down the short flight of shared stairs to fetch his mouse, a funny shift from across the room to a whole spare hallway. I worked much more normal hours during this time, and the pandemic struck. Our bond evolved even more…and ultimately we’ve made it do an apartment across the country, 3x the size of our original digs, and with a work-from-home schedule, we spend every day together.

Here’s to the best little man, Kitty!

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an ode to my cat, Kitty