She was the runt of the litter and only black kitten in a group of tabbies and her dingus brother Gomez. Found in the wall of a mechanic shop in Philly some time in November and carefully fostered by this lovely girl Rachel, who trusted me enough to take them both. Truth be told, I needed a friend. When you move to the other side of the country, have no local friends and you’re home alone a lot? It made perfect sense and my heart wanted a little shadow. Better yet, needed it. I named her Judas.

This is the thing about Judas, she took YEARS to come around. Many years of routine, trust, treats and it wasn’t till much later she finally decided who was hers. That’s how it is with felines – they don’t give it up so freely and make you earn it, that’s how they know you’re a real one. In any event she slowly but surely became my desk statue, art supervisor, serial kitchen beggar, work supervisor perched on my desk chair and rib cage warmer.

Judas loved to bask in the sun, grip my finger with her claws, would never let me pee in peace, waited on the bathmat for me to come out of the shower, smacked her lips when I was preparing food in the kitchen, waited to christen that cleaned litter box, had the fastest poo-phoria zooms and hated a closed door. Frequent were the times she woke me to the song of her people because her food ho-dom knew no bounds, where the purrs carried over into the messages I sent others because she was that loud. There wasn’t a box she didn’t love and claimed before her brother did. She never attacked the Christmas tree, was the queen of side eye, loved to try and eat all kinds of weird shit – especially tape + adhesive, respected our Ofrenda altar and was just this intuitive little beast who always knew when my heart needed mending. She was so quick to offer it with her companionship gold that filled the cracks and fractures. She was there at the end of the day when I laid my head down and one of the first things I saw when I opened my eyes.

She was the quiet one. The one who never gave problems, she was mannered and dainty, drank water from her paw, covered her shit and never needed emergency vet visits. I truly thought she would be the one that made it to legendary status. Everything was leaning that way until it didn’t. I wasn’t expecting to hear lymphoma and when it got to the point I noticed the changes, it was all too much too late. I always promised myself that if we arrived to the big C, I would make the call because prolongation of suffering is not an act of love. Cancer and time are some of the cruelest of thieves.

I spent a weekend mourning her diagnosis. I was grateful Bee was here from Japan when I found out, I needed that more than I could have ever thought. The decline was rapid and in fairness to her we made the call that this needed to be sooner than later. I wasn’t going to watch our mamas struggle more than she already was. So I made it a point to bathe her in love, light and all the treats she was willing to have. We sat outside in the sun and I thanked her. It only made it harder because there were glimmers of her former self there for a moment. She had chosen to hide out in the bath tub of all places which considering my connection to water, feels almost poetic that she found comfort in it just as much. That night she came out and climbed up in bed and rested her head on me, as she would. I’d like to believe that was her way to say she was ready. It was her last departing gift between us.

On the morning of August 5th, I felt my best friend take her final breath underneath the palm of my hand. She was surrounded by her family, in her home – and one of her favorite spots to lounge. It was and is one of the most difficult but beautiful things I have ever had to do. It was the very least she deserved. It was loving, gentle and quick. She was ready. Afterward she was carefully wrapped in a little purrito, Reza and I took turns holding her before I carried her out to the doctor’s car to have her remains ascended into another form.

Judas was the best familiar I could have asked for. She healed me so many times and in so many ways. Rescues save you just as much, I truly believe that. She saw me go through adventures, challenges, poignant moments of my life: moves to new cities, friendship losses, divorce, insurmountable heartbreak, pandemic quarantine, new alliances and connections, surgery, you name it… she was there. A constant in a world where not a lot of things or even people are. And now my friend is gone. 12.5 years was not enough time.

I thought we would have had more time michen. I wasn’t ready. How I would have loved to watch your whiskers go white and turn into a baddie feline crone that owned the house (pssst, you already did). It just didn’t work out that way. The other day I saw your shadow in my bedroom window where you always perched and it was a heart wrenching comfort – like you’re still here in some form or fashion, watching over me. You are so terribly missed.

I look forward to the day we meet again. I will be the one waiting by the water.