Yuzu was the name that my cat was supposed to have. The most beautiful siamese boy with his tiny tail, meowing at me through videos as though giving a job application for his adoption.

As much as I would have loved to hold him in my arms and play with him for all of his glorious yet brief life, I didn’t do it. I could have… But I chose, at the last moment, not to.

We were supposed to make the confirmation payment the next morning, and I freaked out the night before. He was perfect, we loved him, we had planned everything from the litter we would choose to his food, to where he would live, etc.

Although the want for his fuzzy love was very real, I hesitated. I had good reason to, and still I couldn’t bring myself to admit that perhaps saying no was ok.

I have realised time and time again that maybe having a pet is not for me, yet I try like a child. I go to edge of the cliff, but I don’t take the dive. The tide is low and the rocks are sharp. The wind could slam me into the rock behind me as well.

My decision is rooted in my belief that for pet owners, it is essential to be able to put your pet first. Prioritise them in most situations; something I don’t think I am capable of. Being the only kid, I’ve grown up used to having decisions made around me, or being relatively carefree in my lifestyle in the way that things stay on my bed for quite a few hours after I’m done with them and so on.

With Yuzu around, that would have been impossible to do. Travelling and going out would revolve around how long he can stay alone, his meals, his everything. My days, I realised would slip away from me. Due to which, I might build resentment towards the tiny ball of love. he doesn’t deserve that.

I was paralysed by fear at the thought of bringing home what was essentially a baby, only to potentially have to give it away to someone else or make it live with me even when I can’t provide him with adequate love and emotional support.

I was advised to bring him for just five years, but five minutes on google and I knew that was impossible. So, I let go. I made the decision to not bring him in.

Oddly, I am ashamed and embarrassed to admit that I backed off. SO deeply, that I no longer find in myself the energy to speak to anyone. I planned names with friends and asked strangers for advice, only to not do it. Cowardice is the only way I have described my decision so far.

But today I read something called the fish love theory. It goes that a man eating fih is asked why he eats it, to which his reply is “I love fish”. Though, this cannot be true, he has removed the fish from water, killed it, gutted it, boiled it, and now feasts on it. His love is rooted in what the fish can give him. Not in the fish itself, but rather what he can gain from it. true love, on the other hand, is the thought of what one can give the other. Or at least, it must begin like that. If the same love is not reciprocated, surely one ought to leave; true love is rooted in the thought of giving.

It is this post and only this post that saved me from utterly spiralling. My love for Yuzu is absolutely real, I think I might love him far more than if I had brought him with me. That is because, despite my willingness to have a cat, I refused to give into getting him and accidentally ruining his life by seeing how tiny adjustments pile up after he was here.

Sometimes, I now believe, the best way to love someone, and that is truly love them, is to let go of them when you know they are safer in other hands.

As for Yuzu, my sweet sweet boy, the most joyful summer child to exist, I hope he finds a loving family with someone who showers him with love and affection and care and never hesitates to put him first.

You will forever be loved and you will forever stay in my heart as the first kitten I loved. I hope someone can fill your bowl with more food than you can eat and showers you with more love than you could ever imagine.

Yours,

Janhavi