The night the rescuer brought him, he darted behind the toilet—terrified. It was a starlit Saturday, but I barely noticed; my focus was on this scared little creature. A two-month-old cat, saved from the streets with a cropped tail and filled with fear. After receiving care instructions, the rescuer left, leaving me alone with him.
Fifteen days had passed since that fateful afternoon when I vowed never to adopt another cat. It was after returning from the vet where Frida had taken her final rest. Frida and I had shared a decade together—a bond woven through various moves, unbreakable routines of breakfasts, games, and quiet moments of reading and writing with her nestled in my lap. Her enthusiastic greeting whenever I returned home, regardless of the weather. The elegance with which she watched rain as if it were a novelty every time.
We were so connected that she clung to life far beyond what her body could endure. The days following Frida’s passing were torture—a period when friends’ support sustained me through profound grief. Vacations from work initially provided unwanted free time; solitude permeated my home despite efforts to drown it out with noise.
McFly timidly entered our lives—initially hiding in corners and venturing out only at night before slowly acclimating to his new environment. As he cautiously explored his surroundings during my workdays at the bookstore, evenings were spent watching TV until sleep offered respite.
Feeling guilty for seeking companionship to alleviate loneliness rather than noble intentions led me to McFly as a foster home rather than permanent adoption candidate. But caring for him gradually lifted me out of despair by refocusing my attention on nurturing him.
Today marks almost two years since McFly found his way into our lives—a broken soul like mine finding solace in each other’s company amidst past traumas still haunting us both. His quirky antics bring daily laughter—he playfully drops toy mice into his water bowl or demands attention by meowing incessantly upon my return from work.
Observing McFly engage curiously with a movie on TV marked a turning point—it signaled his growing comfort within our shared space and prompted my decision to officially adopt him shortly after.
Our bond deepened gradually as we healed together amid lingering pain over past losses; these moments underscored the absurdity of my initial vow against adopting another feline companion post-Frida’s departure.
Living in our harmonious yet chaotic world filled with books, memories, and now McFly has become my sanctuary—the simplicity of our routine offering solace that defies words—a haven where love conquers grief one day at a time.
As Nuria Rodríguez aptly put it:
“The places common for their goodness are where we often find true meaning.”
And indeed, in this tiny universe we’ve crafted together resides profound purpose—one defined by healing wounds through unconditional love and companionship.
