“Is this my fate? Is this kismet?”

The quote is from an episode of Dexter, but don’t ask me which one or even which season. It was before the show went to the dogs, that’s all I remember.

The quote is burnt into my brain because that’s when I knew who I was looking for. So did my flatmate at the time. We turned to each other and said, at the same time, “that’s it”.

I had convinced him to get a cat, as long as he or she would be my responsibility in every way. I had yearned for a cat for years. Growing up my family had a dog and a rabbit, but cats have always been my weak(est) spot when it comes to pets.

And now we knew who we were looking for.

noun: kismet
  1. destiny; fate.

Impatiently I waited for kitten season to start, and once it did I slavishly kept an eye out. I sent several emails, only to be told that sorry, the kittens already had homes. It was a tiny heartbreak every time.

Then I found an advertisement announcing that four black and white male kittens were looking for a home in mid-June. Something clicked in my gut. I emailed the woman behind the ad – were there still kittens left? Yes, there were two. She sent pictures of Kitten 1 and Kitten 2.

Kitten 1 was so adorable, and I wanted to take him on the spot. Flatmate convinced me to scroll down to Kitten 2. And there he was. Kismet. There wasn’t any doubt – we had found him.

This was in April, and the kittens were far from old enough to be taken from their mother. So the agonising wait began. Luckily, we got continual updates and pictures, and the more I saw of this lovely little creature the more I knew that this was him.

On the 21st of May, flatmate’s birthday, we enlisted a friend with a car and drove the two hours it took us to get from us to where Kismet was. I hadn’t slept well the night before, being all nerves and excitement. It was a little early to take him from his mother, but she was getting more and more aggressive towards the kittens and we were genuinely worried for their safety. They were an independent lot, so we took the chance. Still, I worried I was about to make a huge mistake that would scar Kismet for life.

Kismet was completely uninterested in me when we finally got there; he had a world to explore with his sister!

(A sister, by the way, I ended up adopting almost a year later. Her name is Minnie, and she’s Kismet’s complete opposite in many ways. But that’s a story for another day.)

This is almost five years ago now. The fluffy, blue-eyed kitten has grown into a sleek, green-eyed (neutered) tomcat. He has helped me stop self-harming and despite being a bit of an asshole, he’s always there when life is rough, purring up a storm until I’m smiling. I had to put him out to foster for a while, as he didn’t do well in a small flat without access to the outside, but it did feel like a part of me was missing while he was gone. At the same time, I couldn’t bear to go see him often because I would cry for days after.

I wanted to have my first cat from kittenhood. All other pets that come my way will be rescues, the kind that have a hard time finding their Forever Homes. And I will love all of them with all of my heart.

But Kismet will always be something else. I love Minnie so much it hurts sometimes, but when Kismet is on my lap, like he is now, I feel whole. He and I belong together.

We are each other’s kismet.

Joseph Wright‘s last words


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