Eight years ago, the Teen was eight years old, I’d only been in my new home for about a month and apparently she’d already decided I was her bestie.
Look at this photo, that is not the grip of a child casually enjoying the company of a cat.
That is a legally binding cuddle contract, and to be fair, I was just as obsessed with her.
I’d barely unpacked my emotional baggage and there I was, tucked into her arms like I’d been assigned my person and accepted the position immediately.
Fast forward eight years and that tiny child is now sixteen and starting college in a few days, which frankly feels unnecessary.
Who’s going to randomly faceplant me 306 times a day?
Who’s going to spot me from three rooms away and squeal at a frequency only dolphins can hear?
Who’s going to scoop me up when I was very clearly walking somewhere important?
Who’s going to call me ridiculous names like Fifi Feski as though I don’t have a reputation to maintain?
Who’s going to bury their face in my fur, announce that I “smell like Felix” and then refuse to elaborate on what that actually means?
Who’s going to interrupt a perfectly good nap because apparently seeing my toe beans is an emergency?
Who’s going to walk past me, turn around, come back and say, “I just need one cuddle,” as though the previous twelve didn’t count?
Oh yeah
Mum
Mum also does every single one of those things.
Excellent my suffering will continue uninterrupted (I’m a huge attention seeker really)
But this photo really gets me, I’d only been home a month.
I was still learning the house, the noises, the routines and exactly which humans were easiest to manipulate for food, and somehow Teen and I had already found each other.
She was eight and I was the new fluffy guy
Neither of us knew that eight years later she’d be heading off to college while I’d still be here getting aggressively loved against my will.
Some things change very quickly.
Some things don’t change at all, and apparently being obsessed with me is hereditari
Even though her bedroom door will stay closed for weeks at a time and her schedule is about to get overwhelmingly busy, I know my spot in this family is completely secure. Whenever she comes back home for the holidays, I am fully prepared to act deeply annoyed while secretly soaking up every single unasked-for hug and cheek squeeze she throws my way.
College might teach her advanced mathematics, literature, and science, but it won’t ever cure her of the absolute necessity to squish my face when she walks into the room. Some bonds are simply built to withstand growing up, moving out, and changing phases of life entirely.
So let her pack her bags and face this next big adventure with all the confidence in the world, knowing that no matter how far away her classes take her, her favorite furry supervisor will be right here waiting to demand his proper tribute of pets and chin scratches the moment she returns.
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