"You're my greatest accomplishment, and you did it all yourself. You taught me to understand my own life better, and made me a better person."
- Homer Simpson

McClane,

It's now been two years since you came into my life. I was a junior in high school when I came home for Christmas break, and my mother warned me, "I think there's a cat in the air vents." It seemed like a cruel joke — literally how does a cat get stuck in an air vent? Worse, why did it feel the need to keep me awake all night long, crying until it made itself hoarse? It wasn't a good first impression.

This is what you sounded like

And then I realized that you were no longer in the air vent and that you had made your way into our house. A few days later, I moved the couch forward to sweep behind it, and there you were. You were tiny, your eyes comically big, like a dumb-looking owl. I remember gasping like a traveler who had just come upon the Northern Lights. We named you McClane, after Die Hard's John McClane, because of the way you had come into our home: you, too, know what a TV dinner feels like.

We didn't know exactly how old you were, so we weren't completely sure if we'd be able to socialize you, but I was willing to put in the work.I read that harp music calmed cats down, so I played harp music day and night. I spoke to you in a soft voice, and I let you bat at me, scratch me, and hate me as much as you needed to. For a long time, it looked like you would never love me back, no matter how hard I tried to make you understand that I wasn't going to hurt you, that all I wanted was to feed you and make you feel loved. I wanted you to feel safe with me. But, one night, after you'd gotten comfortable enough to eat in front of me so you had free reign of the room again, a loud noise woke me up. I rolled over, and there you were, sitting by the foot of my bed, watching me sleep, with a loud hearty purr vibrating from your itty bitty body. I startled you, and you quickly ran away, but I cried, then, because I finally knew that I was getting through to you. And I knew, too, that you had completely stolen my heart.

You had bad separation anxiety, then. You and I were pretty attached, and you got scared when I left you alone. It worked well, because I got scared when I had to leave you. I was the only one you let hold you. You liked to climb up from the bottom of the dresser and into the top drawer, and that's where you slept. All I had to do was open the drawer when I wanted to see you and cuddle you. The first time we left my bedroom door open and let you explore the rest of the house, I freaked out. I didn't trust anyone else to look after you, and when I had to go back to school, I found myself counting down every day to the weekend when I got to come back home to you.

McClane, there are a few things you don't know about me. My brain is a little sick. I have separation anxiety, too. When I'm left alone, I scream and cry because it feels like the end and no one will ever come back or love me again. I am constantly so scared. Little things give me heart palpitations and I send myself into crying fits just from worrying. Some days I'm too depressed to get out of bed. Some days I lash out at the people I love. Some days I don't trust my own thoughts.

Those months I spent with you was the first time in quite some time that I didn't have to be afraid. From that first time you purred at me, I knew we were in this together. No one had ever trusted me like you had. No one had ever shared my room in such an intimate way, falling asleep with me and leaning into my touch for comfort. McClane, before I met you there were days when I felt I was an unlovable, broken mess. And I think that's something you can understand. I'll never know how you ended up alone in our air vents, just a teeny tiny baby. I'll never understand how any mother, even a cat mother, could leave you behind, but, at the end of the day, I'm so happy she did. McClane, when I look at you I see all that I've ever wanted to be. I want to trust people like you. I want to be held and believe it's okay. I want to see so much good in things that a cough drop can become a toy amusing to entertain me for hours.

Things are a lot different now. You're a lot bigger — you're even a little chubby. You're still as skittish as ever, but you've learned how to be happy on your own, and that's something I wish I could learn from you. I've spent so much time away from home that we've grown apart. You run away when I come home, and you bat at me if I try to pet you. You're just as affectionate as you've always been, but you no longer like to be held. That's been hard for me to accept.

I hope one day I can rebuild my relationship with you again, that one day it'll be my bed that you sleep in, and my feet that you circle around when you need attention. John McClane, you are an angel, and I may be a crazy cat lady, but you've brought so much happiness, peace, and comfort into my life. I love you in a way I didn't know could be so sweet and intense. Helping you learn to trust others and love has been an honor, and I can't wait to see how you continue to grow. Thank you for helping me to grow, too. I hope you know that I am never going to leave you behind — even if you somehow get caught in an air vent, I am never going to give up on you.

Happy two years, Squeaky Butt.