Her Story

As per your request, here it is:

          He smiled through his tears, “I wanted her to be in my life. I wanted her to be a part of me.”

          Scratching the back of his head, his face beamed with a wider smile, fake smile. You know, that kind of fake smile you show just to conceal things that’s so obvious that makes you look pathetic because of what you’re feeling. “I thought I’d be able to take care of her. I thought I’d be able to give her the things I know she’s losing… I thought I’d be able to be with her whenever she needs me, understand her when she’s feeling down… you know, just exist for her. Existing is good enough for me as long as it’s for her.”

          It’s hurting him. The pain’s killing him but he’s toughing it out. Silence ambiance. He took a sip of the cup of coffee in front of him. Faking another smile he continued, “It’s cold now. Maybe if I took the chance to drink the coffee earlier… maybe if I seized the opportunity to introduce myself to her that night, she would’ve been happier. I think she would’ve been happier if… if she had a person like me— you know, in her life. We would’ve been able to do things, you know mental things, capture some photos together, laugh about stupid jokes, read funny stuff, talk about depressing thoughts and… our lives… mine and hers.”

As you may know, my name is Sydni. I have the most beautiful and unique cat in the world. I’m also not ashamed to claim her as my best friend. I haven’t had Cleo forever, though.

When I was in middle school and high school, I was severely bullied by my peers. In the beginning of middle school, I didn’t have many friends. I was clinically depressed, and it was starting to affect my social life and grades. I had had two gerbils for a while to keep me busy, but sadly they passed away while I was away for vacation after about a year. After that, I didn’t have any pets for a long time.

I had always wanted a cat. I loved and was obsessed with cats. (And let’s be honest, I still am.) I asked my mom if it was possible to get a cat, I was so desperate for a friend and companion, and what better companion than a cuddly, purring monster? My mom repeatedly said “no”. As it turns out, my entire family is allergic to pets and pet dander.

I was around eleven or twelve years old at this time. Every day I would bring up the possibility of getting a kitten. As previously stated, I was obsessed. I had a prescription to Cat Fancy magazine (and still do), and would research online different breeds of cats. Of course, this didn’t help ease my family’s allergies.

One day while in class, I was reading the latest issue of Cat Fancy and the featured breed of the month was no other than the Devon Rex.

For those of you that are unaware, a Devon Rex is a specific breed of cat that is hypoallergenic. They have very short fur and rarely shed.

As you can imagine, my little twelve-year-old mind was made up; I was going to get me one of those cats.

I showed my mom, and we immediately set to the computer to research this breed. Of course, we discovered fairly quickly that this breed was not cheap. We simply could not afford one. I didn’t give up hope though, I held on to the chance that maybe I would be blessed with a friend of my own someday.

One day while browsing Devon Rex breeders online, we stumbled upon a two month old kitten, the last of her litter. I looked at her picture and fell in love. She was the outcome of a Sphynx/Devon Rex breeding (we assume was a mistake), and she was simply adorable. Her big Sphynx ears and fuzzy Devon Rex body made her the most adorable kitten I’d ever seen.

I knew I was going to adopt her. I printed out her picture and shoved it into the front pocket of my school binder, and carried it around with my everywhere. I’ve always been fond of Ancient Egypt, and thought she resembled the hieroglyphic cats on the walls of the tombs of Cleopatra, so that’s what I decided I would name her.

Anyone and everyone who I saw would be shown her picture and told her future name, and I would say “This is going to be my kitty, I can’t wait to have her.”

Now, my mother never agreed to purchase the cat, nor did she hint at the fact that she would. That didn’t matter though, I was going to have my kitty.

Come Christmas Eve, I was convinced I was going to receive my Cleopatra as a gift. As we arrived home, I looked around the house, only to see no signs of any animals what-so-ever. Confused, I approached my mom and asked “Where’s Cleo?” She looked a bit sad and glanced at my aunt and sister before hugging me and saying, “Syd, I told you we just don’t have the money right now to get a cat.”

Saying I was heartbroken would be an understatement. I ran to my room and sobbed until I fell asleep.

The next morning, I woke up to a very obnoxious sound, and my aunt shaking me awake. I grumbled and batted her away, but as soon as I realized that the noise was the high-pitched crying of a young cat, I sprang out of bed faster than I ever have before. Still in my dress from the night before, I came out to the kitchen, and sure enough, in a carrying case was no other than Cleopatra, my Cleopatra. The one whose picture I had been carrying around for weeks, and told everyone someday would be mine.

I’ll post more stories as this blog progresses, but for now, I’ll skip forward to the present. Cleo is seven and a half years old, and was just diagnosed with skin cancer. My plan for the summer was to work the entire time, and visit my performing art grad school options in London around July. Unfortunately, with my baby’s diagnosis, I may not be able to do so, as the surgery is not cheap. I just started this blog to document her (hopeful) recovery, and share some stories that make me smile. And I know there are people who would enjoy her life too, so I figured I would share!

Sydni Schiavone & Cleopatra