As usual, first a weird detour.

Full disclosure: I am a fan of the 90 Day Fiancé universe, although I’ve been slacking in my streaming since coming overseas.

There was an episode of 90DF of Tania and her husband, or now ex-husband Singyn, but who really cares…where she said that she already had a soulmate, and that it was her first love, and that she couldn’t have another soulmate. Needless to say, Singyn was very upset and it sparked *then* a whole entire conversations surrounding soulmates, and the probability of having more than one.

I don’t consider Caspian to be my soulmate. I am 1000% confident that H fills that role. I cannot help but feel though, that this cat could be a close second. We understand that sometimes pets can mean more than people, that they are this non-verbal being in the house that cares for you unconditionally and you take care of them and just exist together. Then eventually the unfortunate happens, because as we know, pets don’t have the life expectancy like humans do unless they’re like an heirloom parrot or tortoise.

I meant to write this on his birthday, April 1st. He just turned eight, and as we don’t have any children right now, our pets are our children, and I wanted to reflect on the past eight years with my little best friend. I wrote something else instead, because it sparked my interest.

Not that I’m not interested in my cat, but when I set out on my “love letter” series, I think I get the most emotional about this one.

It was spring 2014 and I saw a post on a social network group about found kittens that had been abandoned and were looking for homes. The pictures showed three kittens, all tabby, two brown/grey, one orange, and the moment I saw his face, I knew he had to be mine.

I promptly picked him up, and was told that so many people wanted him because of his personality. Part of me thinks that had I missed out on this cat, my life would’ve not been what it is now.

Needless to say he was cute….

But also a demon in the beginning. He would make the most ungodly noises and scratch up everything, jump all over, and was a total bruiser. He would get on the table and try and knock food off your plate or fork as you tried to eat, he ended up stealing crepes from me one morning off the counter. He was neutered and still nuts.

And it only changed after my then roommate brought another cat into the home, in which that one promptly beat up Caspian, and his whole demeanor changed. And since then, he has been the most perfect cat.

Unlike the stereotype of most cats, he is entirely predictable.

He waits by the bedroom door in the morning to meow as soon as it is opened, he cries until you feed him, and then disappears. Either in a window, or under the bed.

He then reappears in the evening for dinner time, casually following you around the house, making sure you can see him, and then leads you to his food space until you give in to feeding him. He then may or may not disappear again, but reappears before bedtime for pets, or to run around and expel energy.

After we take the dog out, Caspian runs to the kitchen for his kitty cookies, at which point he will catch them in his paws as you toss them to him. It’s seriously the cutest.

Right now he loves his West Africa life, all of the rooms have windows that he can see out of, watch the birds, catch lizards that unfortunately make it into our home, and plenty of places to hide. I’m excited to see how he’ll handle some impending life changes.

Knock on wood, he’s a great cat to travel with. He stays really quiet. New places? Takes him a day to adjust, but then he’s all on board if he’s got a comfortable spot, a view, and a supply of food.

He’s loving once he trusts, except the dog. He is not a dog guy, he will constantly now box the dog whenever Stitch walks by.

I cannot and do not want to imagine my life without him. He is my one and only cat, forever.

He is my soul cat.

He is me, just in cat form. Loves the pizazz of parties, but doesn’t like energy that goes into it.

As he gets older, I hope he never loses his wonder, his undying love for paper and boxes, his hatred of outfits, and constant want to be pet for hours. Like he currently is, on the table as I write this. He’s my first baby, my emotional support animal, the fur-love of my life.

And no, never named after Narnia, always the sea.

Goodnight from Togo, I’m going to pause on the previous plans of this evening and just take care of them tomorrow. I’ve been reminded (almost pointlessly, since I’m doing an injustice to Caspian,) that I should spend more time with the ones I love.

Until next time, I think a spotted in Lomé post is in order…

Carrie