Ever since I can remember, I’ve always felt at home when I was surrounded by animals.
I spent the majority of my childhood around my block, humming “Still loving you” from Scorpions (I have to thank my dad for having such a brilliant taste in music), and hugging a pup or kitten. Dating back to those times, my love for animals was an ever so present entity in my day to day life. I can say, wholeheartedly that nothing has changed. Let me tell you a story! How did my cat cure my depression? feat. Sylvester!
So how did my cat cure my depression?
Through the years, I’ve had a fair share of pets. I had dog, a few australian finches, a pigeon and some cats. Thing is, I only had them for a short period of time and none of them really impacted my life… Well, not until I met Sylvester.
Sylvester was born in 2017 and i got him in the summer break between my freshman year and sophomore year of high school, which was a very difficult time of my life. It’s when I had my teenager existential crisis. That kitten became the source of my happiness.
I remember the first time I saw him as if it was yesterday- he was a fluff ball with huge eyes. And that, my friends, was the beginning of my obsessive adoration of my cat.
Sylvester thought me love. I found this galaxy of happiness in his eyes, a safe place where all of my misfortunes melted away.
I started giving happiness a second chance and slowly, I began seeing happiness in every little thing. He was a ray of light in my darkest of times, when the waves seemed to swallow me whole, he was my anchor, bringing me back to shore. If someone would’ve told me that a cat can mend your soul… I would’ve asked them what they were smoking, because I wanted some.
I kept finding myself going through hard times, physically or mentally- and Sylvester was always there to keep me company and cheer me up.
During those times, waves of sadness would wash over me, sending me deeper into the void that my existence became. I thought i wouldn’t make it through. Yet, here I am.
As I am writing this article, Sylvester is resting in my lap, occasionally eyeing me as if to say “Yes, I know you are writing about me and I know that you love me” purring satisfied, because he knows it all too well.
All this being said, I can’t claim that this cat is a saint.
He is a bit of a trouble-maker (some of his mischiefs include chewing on books, scratching furniture and breaking things), but you see, I could never say that any of these things were ill-intended. Let’s break the stereotype that cats are the spawn of Satan, they are just curious.
Cats get easily fascinated by even the smallest of things, as opposed to us, disinterested, apathetic humans.
Of course Sylvester isn’t causing trouble intentionally, he is exploring the world, just like any other cat. That’s why we say “Curiosity killed the cat”. And Sylvester is one hell of a curious cat.
My love for Sylvester is endless.
Every day, when I come home from school, he is waiting for me in the hallway. He is waiting for me to pick him up in my arms and tell him how much I love him- it became a gratitude ritual. As much as you’ll tell me that Sylvester is just a cat, and cats don’t have feelings, that they are simply following instincts, I know one thing for sure: Sylvester loves me. I can feel it every time he curls up on my chest and starts purring, every time he meows for me to pick him up and give him some attention.
For the past three years I had Sylvester, my life has become exceptionally happy.
I swear to God, I have no idea where I would’ve been now if it weren’t for my cat. I can finally see the happy things in life and I can honestly say that my cat cured my depression. And I’ll always love him for that.
Author: Dragoș Măntoiu