To me, Harold wasn’t just a pet. From the minute I adopted him, he was family. I loved him more than anything, and in every sense of the word, he was my best friend. I adopted Harold in November of 2020; I remember going into the shelter and I had picked out 5 cats from their website that I really wanted to meet. I met all of them, but none of them felt quite right. The woman brought me into this room and told me there was another cat she thought I should meet, she opened his little kennel and immediately Harold jumped into my arms, curled up and head butted my face gently before laying his little head in the crook of my neck. I remember it so vividly, and I remember looking at her and saying, ‘This is my cat’. 20 minutes later, me and Harry were at home, and unlike most cats, he didn’t want to be left alone, I offered him his own space to adapt, but he jumped up on my bed and laid on my chest. That’s how we spent every moment we had together. Harold was my cuddle buddy, he was always laying on top of me, or by my side, tucked into my arm. Towards the end, he favored laying with his head resting on top of my hand or arm. It didn’t matter where I was, or what I was doing, Harold was right there in my arms, or at my feet wanting me to pick him up. It was a running joke in my family that Harold was just as much my support animal, as I was his support human. We were Kayla and Harold, never one without the other. He was so gentle, and so sweet.
Despite my best efforts, he never was super into toys, but he loved lasers, and he loved his scratch posts. More than anything else though, Harold’s absolute favorite thing was boxes. He loved hiding in them, he loved napping on top of them (his favorites were pizza and Crumbl cookie boxes). I’d come home and Harold would be laying on top of a box. Sometimes he’d lay on boxes way too small, and he’d be falling off of it, but he didn’t care, he loved it.
When I first adopted him, I was watching the show ‘New Girl’ and it got to the point that it felt like he was watching it with me, and I’d even leave it on for him when I left which actually always calmed him down. He had bad anxiety when I first adopted him, and he was weary of everyone else in my house aside from me, so he spent most of his days in my room, curled up on my pillows when I wasn’t home, and when he started slowly but surely coming out of the room, and letting other people pet him, I was so happy and proud of him. Harold helped me through some of the most truly awful times in my life, I struggle with Anxiety, and Depression, and he was always there to cuddle me when I needed him. When my grandma died, I cried inconsolably for weeks, and every time Harry would come cuddle close to me and let me sob into his fur. He’d let me hug him and rest my head on him, and he’d still try to snuggle closer. Again, when I lost my aunt, and then my uncle, all in less than a year from my grandma, he was there. I wouldn’t have made it without him. I genuinely don’t think I would have been able to get up in the mornings without him. I could still write so much more about this cat, my sweet boy, my Harold, but I’ll stop here for now.
I will always love and miss you, so much Harold. I truly believe you were my soul cat; nothing can ever replace you, and I wouldn’t want to. I know we’ll meet again someday at the Rainbow Bridge, and I can’t wait to have you in my arms again. You were taken too soon, baby boy, but I know you were in pain and that it was your time. I love you forever, and always.