In my memoir, The Gifts That Haunt Me, there’s a chapter about past roommates: those who had stolen from me, borrowed my clothes without asking, thrown parties without my knowledge, bailed on leases, and countless other shenanigans. While writing my book I was living with a woman named Jen and her cat Judy, and felt reassured that I’d finally found a healthy and happy living arrangement. That said, prior to them moving in in October of 2019, I was reluctant to share my home with anyone- let alone someone with a feline companion. What if she disrespects my personal space? What if she damages my belongings? I wasn’t sure if it was a gamble I was willing to take, regardless of how cute/sweet she was. Then there was the cat.
In the beginning, Jen and I would get together for coffee on a weekly basis, which went on for about two months and much to my delight, we seemed to hit it off right away. She shared that her living situation at the time was tenuous at best- she’d been renting a room from a man about twenty years her senior, who was nice and harmless; a lonely hippie with a big heart. However, there wasn’t much space for Jen or Judy to roam about, and Judy was usually relegated to her bedroom, which didn’t settle well with Jen. Eventually, upon realizing we’d formed a sisterly, soul connection, I asked Jen to move in.
Initially Judy was not amused- with me or her new surroundings. This was not her first rodeo and she wasn’t going to simply hand over her affections; they would have to be earned. It took about six months for her to warm up to me, but once she did she had me wrapped around her paw- and she knew it.
Around that time I had just finalized my divorce. I had some money from the equity in the house I had shared with my ex, so nine months after Jen and Judy arrived at my apartment, we moved into the condo I’d purchased- an upgrade for everyone involved. It seemed like a natural progression, having them come with me, as we had become each others’ chosen family.
Additionally, any fears I’d once had of damaged furniture were assuaged once I bought covers for the dining room chairs; then the recliner and sofa were adorned with double-sided tape, and the beam above the staircase was also covered in sticky tape. In addition to that, the clean freak in me succumbed to floors that were covered with boxes and plastic bags because, after all, it was essentially Judy’s house and Jen and I were merely living there!
I was amazed at how quickly Judy went from seeming indifferent towards me to demanding my absolute undivided attention whenever she walked into the room. It was as if she had trained me to be at her beck and call and I was more than happy to oblige. Sometimes she would sit in my lap when Jen was at work while I typed away, constructing my memoir. Other times, she’d just stare at me, as if peering deep into my inner being. It was almost spooky, sensing that she was without a doubt, more than just a cat- she was an old soul. That didn’t stop her from acting like a kitten though; especially when she got the zoomies, dashing back and forth throughout the house like her tail was on fire. Speaking of, she only had half a tail, which honestly made her all the more endearing.
Jen’s mom had adopted Judy about ten years prior to Jen moving in with me, and at some point concluded it was best for Judy to live with Jen. The general consensus was that Judy was a street kitty prior to being adopted and had had a rough go at life- hence the tail situation.
For almost six years I had the pleasure of loving this sweet, playful, and feisty little furball. Sometimes I’d rustle a plastic bag, which would ensure her darting over to nuzzle her face in it. She really had a thing for licking plastic and would only eat Kit & Kaboodle cat food- it was her equivalent of an entree from a Michelin starred eatery. But our special thing was when I’d let the water softly drizzle from the faucet and she’d delicately balance on the narrow space between the two sink basins to get fresh, cold water- hydration in any other capacity was for lesser cats!
As she got older, Jen and I would lift her onto the countertops (where she had free reign), and then lower her softly to the floor. She required various medicines at different times for her thyroid and appetite stimulation, but was overall, a seemingly healthy old gal.
By the time Judy passed in July 2025, aka, transitioned to the eternal afterlife, she was around sixteen or seventeen, and she and Jen were living in their own place. According to the vet, she likely had cancer.
The end was inevitable, but without a doubt, she knew she was loved and it was such an honor to have been her Auntie. There were so many days where her presence was the only bright spot- so many times where her love kept me going.
As far as me and Jen- there was no nasty fallout- no bad blood. I have accepted long ago that it’s okay to let people go; sometimes that’s the best way to love them and yourself. Change is part of evolution.
However, though most relationships are not forever, that doesn’t mean they don’t sometimes change us forever. Jen and Judy were a profound chapter in my life, which I shall forever cherish and have gratitude for as the three of us embark upon a new one.
