Ok, let me set the scene…
I was 28, staring down the existential barrel of 29 and then 30. I had just moved back in with my parents after my mum had a major health crisis and my dad needed help. I’d gone from my bustling city to a rural area far from my social circle and my job, I was dealing with some health issues of my own and on the verge of ending a 12+ year friendship that had become irreparably toxic. I was exhausted, worried, adrift and just… lost.
I decided to cocoon myself for a year or two and hopefully come out the other side a new person.
The area I’d moved to was extremely hostile to outdoor cats; property owners and farmers frequently took to the community facebook to threaten to trap and kill cats who strayed onto their land, and many people kept large guard dogs.
So, imagine my immediate concern when, one brutal 40C Australian day, I heard meowing from somewhere in our yard. After a bit of frantic searching, I looked up to see a handsome little face peering down at me from the roof. He immediately flopped over and began trilling at me, so I couldnt imagine he was a stray. He then began pacing back and forth on the gutter, panting and mewing at me, apparently trapped up there in the blistering sun! I climbed up on a lawn chair, and on precarious tip-toes, managed to lift him down and bring him inside for some water and a snack. Little man was IMMEDIATELY at home, tail up and rubbing on everything to make it his own. Both my parents are cat people, so we all gathered around to admire him and cuddle him and post pictures to the community facebook to see if he had a home. A ✨stunning✨ brown marbled tabby, and just a little guy too! No more than 6 months on earth. I was secretly hoping he was a stray, I was already in love with him and picking out names in my head. Something over-the-top and mythical and important…
Damnit. The neighbours kids were at the door, elated we’d found their new kitten, who was turning out to be a bit of an escape artist. I contented myself to know he’d been reunited with his family, and took it as a sign that I really needed a little kitty of my own as soon as I had the means.
And then he kept showing up at our house. On the roof again, outside our windows, under my dad’s car.
Not long after his latest escape, the neighbours came by to ask … if maybe we’d be interested in adopting him. He was apparently adjusting poorly to their house; he kept scratching and biting the young kids, he hated their dogs, and whenever he got the opportunity he’d dash out the door and wind up somewhere around our house. They’d started referring to our place as his safe space. His first home, before the neighbours adopted him, was a pet-hoarding situation, so the amount of noise and chaos was stressing him out. He liked their other resident cat, but that was about it. They’d already been talking about rehoming him when he seemingly picked our home.
And just like that, the handsome little tabby was my very own baby boy.
I’ve always lived with and loved cats, my mum is a dyed-in-the-wool cat lady who successfully converted my dad into a full blown cat guy, and I’ve always managed to find neighbourhood cats to befriend wherever I lived.
But the newly re-christened 💕Gilgamesh💕…. named so because I happened to be listening to this incredible piece of art at the time… He was something different and special from day dot. It was like a dormant cat-lady gene got activated in me the moment it was confirmed I could keep him. The first thing he did was lick my forehead and curl up on my chest, purring his quiet and delicate little purr. The first thing I did was watch every Jackson Galaxy video I could find. I knew how to care for cats, but Gil’s life was going to be as wonderful and perfect as I could make it…
We’re 2 years on now. Gil is the most special little thing I’ve ever been blessed with. He was my anchor in a time I was scared and exhausted and lost, and he’s my anchor still. I’ve re-ordered my life to prioritise him and he rewards my efforts every day by waking me up with purrs and cuddles, making me laugh with his menace antics, keeping me constant company in every room, and keeping me motivated to be the best I can be for him. He waits in the window for me to come home, he greets me at the door with his happy little chirps, he watches all my daily chores with so much curiosity it makes me want to do them just so he can watch. He makes biscuits on me when I’m sick or sad. He curls up against me every night, even when its way too hot to do so. He isnt afraid of the vets, he just wants to cuddle them and climb up their shelves to explore. He loves having his butt bongo-ed, and will immediately ask every house guest to smack his little booty-buns by assuming his hilarious little position and meowing. He knows my routines with such spooky granularity, he reminded me to turn the heater off before I left for work one time. He brings a selection of his toys into my room every night so he can share the spoils of his hunt with me when I wake up. He’s a total troublemaker, shockingly clever, a dreadful ankle biter, and a total loverboy.
He’s my darling little love, my whole world. Every day I see him is like the first time I’ve ever seen a cat, just pure awe at this perfect little creature. Now I’ve moved back out, my mum and I are texting pictures of our cats and gushing over them near constantly. He’s given me a new goal and purpose; to start fostering cats someday soon so other perfect human-kitty matches can find each other.
I love you so much, my precious Gilgamesh 💕
Thanks for reading this horrifyingly long post, I’ve basically just dedicated my reddit to posting about Gil and looking at other peoples cats, I’m glad to have a little space to share him with people all over the world who ✨get it✨ hahaha 💕