It was a beautiful sunny November afternoon that day when I came home from work. As I was walking towards the house, I noticed something on the walkway. At first I thought it was a dead squirrel. As I got closer, I realized it was a tiny kitten.

His eyes were half shut, the little ears were barely visible and the tiny tail was sticking straight up. He was meowing at the top of his lungs, yet it was barely audible. I knew where he came from.

The people a few doors down left their cats outside, and every year, they had litters. Either the mother was in the process of moving them and I’d startled her, or he wandered into my yard by himself. To this day, I like to believe he found his way there on his own.

I took him into the house and gave him some water in an eye dropper. I had a small rabbit cage, which I lined with towels and put him in. Then I went to Walmart and got some powered milk and a small bottle to feed him. I prayed that night he would make it. He was so tiny.

A few days later, I saw his mother in my yard looking for him. I felt bad. For a moment, I considered giving him back to her, but I knew he would have a better life with me than he would living outside. Sadly, a couple months later, his mother was hit with a car. I was now officially his mommy.

On his first visit to the vet, he was only 0.6 pounds. He was with me for 19 years through some of the best and worst times of my life. He never left my side. He crossed the bridge in December 2019, and I stayed with him to the end, talking to him and singing him the songs I sang to him when he was a baby.

I miss him every single day, but I will forever be thankful for that November day when he found his way into my yard and into my heart.