August 2020: Momo and I napping after moving into our second Ann Arbor apartment
Within my first week of living in Orlando, I was miserable. The knowledge that I could be living in Ann Arbor if my parents had approved of the decision lingered over my head every waking moment. It simply was not fair. I worked undeniably hard throughout the four years of high school and every year of schooling beyond. I was promised by my father that he would cover the costs of my out-of-state tuition if and only if I followed his footsteps imprinted all across the University of Michigan. Miraculously, I had been accepted into the university in early 2018 but my father’s promise fell through.
Moving to a place with the cognizance that my existence there was temporary made it seemingly impossible to experience joy. Despite having some of my closest friends and my sister with me in the city, I was completely unhappy. Orlando was a purgatory between my coming of age in South Florida and my lifelong dream of attending the University of Michigan. And to top it all off, I was hundreds of miles away from my beloved pup Sparky.
The corner of my bed felt empty, weighed down by the missing presence of my furry best friend. As much as my parents detested the idea, I ached for the companionship of an animal. I tried to reason with them that adopting a cat would drastically improve my emotional state and although they continued to oppose the idea, I went ahead and followed my instincts.
On October 2nd 2018, my roommates joined me on a life altering, hour long drive. Earlier that week, I dived deep into a Craigslist search that led me to a woman whose Siamese cat had kittens. We had been in contact for a few days before scheduling to meet and make a sketchy, but worthwhile, exchange.
I had always identified as a “dog person”, which happens to be the exact reason I opted to adopt a cat. The life of a college student involves small living spaces, no backyard, and simply not enough time to provide the amount of care and attention a dog requires. Not a single part of me could imagine waking up early in the morning every day to take my dog on a walk. So I thought, it’s time to adopt a cat… who ended up nearing the neediness of a dog anyway.
As I arrived in the lot we planned to meet in, I felt an undiluted mixture of excitement and fear boiling inside of me. In minutes, I would officially become the mother of my own fur baby! WHAT?! My brain could not compute this life change. Sure, I had Sparky back home, but he does not belong to me alone; this was new territory.
Despite having spent nearly every year of my life aspiring to nurture animals, this exact moment felt abrupt. Truth be told, it had only been two weeks since I first had the idea to adopt my own baby. And I had only been away at college for five weeks. Panic began to set in just as the mystery cat woman pulled up two spaces down from where I was parked.
There must have been a misunderstanding during my communication with the quirky woman who brought her granddaughter to meet with a stranger in an empty parking lot. I was expecting a kitten with a few months of age but when the woman opened his cage, I was met with the face of an incredibly small 11 week old kitten. His coat was completely white with only a dark streak on his nose, dark tips on his ears, and the most piercing, icy blue eyes. My roommates and I exchanged glances that so obviously shared the same “What the fuck?” level of shock. It was like going to the grocery store ready to buy strawberries only to be handed seeds. Like, what the fuck, do I look equipped to raise a cat who just barely exited the womb?
The next couple of months revealed just how motherly I am towards animals.
October 2nd 2018: The first photo I took of Momo after arriving at our Orlando apartment
I caught myself singing Momo to sleep, rocking his miniature body in my arms as he purred louder than I’ve heard any other cat do. Every night, Momo pawed at my arms until I opened them up enough for him to cuddle in the space between my chest and arms. Some nights, he pushed my head enough to force me into sharing my pillow with him. Since our first weeks together, Momo has been stuck on me like fleas. In the mornings, he greets me with nose kisses and snuggles. When I go to the bathroom, he waits outside of the door meowing impatiently unless I invite him in to creepily stare at me. When I walk to the kitchen and begin cooking, he follows, often jumping on the counter not to taste human food but to climb onto my shoulder, forcing me to pause the present activity in favor of carrying him around like a baby. When I sit at my desk and open my laptop to begin working, Momo jumps onto the desk, laying down on my arms in a way that hinders my ability to use my laptop at all. To put it simply, Momo is obsessed with me and the feeling is mutual.
November 2018: Momo helping me with statistics homework
During the past three years of coexisting with my baby Mo, we have lived in three college apartments, regularly traveling between them and my family home in South Florida. He’s been on more planes than some people I know and comfortably survived an 18 hour drive from South Florida to Ann Arbor. Hell, he’s even lived in more cities than some of my friends. And through it all, he has been happy, simply to be with me.
I wish there was a way to properly express to Momo how much his love and companionship have helped me. Sure, I am filled with rage on days he chooses to wake me up at 6am, meowing for hours straight as if he’s been left malnourished and alone in the woods. But those moments could never outweigh the ones that expand my love for Momo: the way he greets me at the door each time I come home, how he joins me in bed, curling up against my legs the moment I turn the lights off, and how he gives me a reason to wake up every morning.
October 2021: Some classic Momo love
During the most emotionally challenging periods of the past three years, Momo has been there, providing comfort and motivation to not spend all day laying around in my room with the curtains closed. Even though his reminders for me to get up are prompted by hunger, I like to think he is taking care of me, returning the favor of my protection. The possibility of him living with me like this for the next fifteen or so years gives me butterflies.
Who needs therapy when you have the love of a cat?
Although Orlando marks a time when I was plagued by feelings of misery and angst, I look back and can appreciate the place for the prize I’ve been gifted: an affectionate kitty with the warmest soul. My baby Momo.
January 2020: Momo and I saying goodbye to Sparky before flying back to Ann Arbor
May 2019: Momo in his tree in my Weston, Florida bedroom
Before meeting him, I had already picked out Momo’s name, inspired by the flying lemur in my favorite animated show, Avatar the Last Airbender. In addition to the name belonging to a character in a television series of high personal value, Siamese cats are physically so similar in coat pattern to Momo the lemur. My Momo definitely grew to develop a similar outlandish and goofy personality.
Momo the flying lemur, Avatar the Last Airbender
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April 2020: Momo pretending to be a table decoration
señorito momito
How an eleven week old kitten became my knight in shining armor.