Life never had a chance

A runt. The abandoned son of a feral barn cat. We brought him home. We nursed him. We loved him. We cleaned him. We snuggled him. We kept him warm and safe.

He was underweight. We knew this. The odds were long. He likely wouldn't survive. We named him Chayyim. Chai for short. His name meant life.

But life never had a chance. Chayyim left us this evening. We knew this would likely come. We knew we shouldn't get attached. But you can't love like that.

Chai was born to be abandoned. He was born to a mother that didn't want him. He was doomed to die alone. No one should die alone.

So we loved him. Not for long. Not nearly long enough. But we loved him. He was held. He was kept safe and warm. He was given as much affection as any living thing has ever received.

He was loved. Not for long enough. But he was loved. He didn't live alone. He didn't die alone. He was held at the end. He snuggled in. He passed peacefully.

He was loved. No one should not know love. No one should not know a mother's love, her touch, her kiss, her warm embrace.

Chai had a mother. A cat birthed him but Shannon held him and loved him and changed him and swaddled him and worried over him and kept him safe and loved best of all.

We named him Chayyim. His name meant life. Life never had a chance.

But he was loved.