I closed the door on my street cat that last night, and I never saw her again
This is something that breaks me every single day. Even now, two years later, I wish I could go back to that one night - the night I closed the door on Beluga's face.
She was a street cat who simply decided I was worth her time - came for food, followed me when I stepped outside, occasionally walked into my house like she belonged there.
One night she appeared at my door. It was late. I was disturbed in something personal, not in the right mood. She stood there looking at me.
I closed the door on her face. Told myself I'd feed her tomorrow.
But there was no tomorrow.
A week passed with no sign of her. I felt something was wrong. I searched everywhere. Another week later, a caretaker nearby mentioned he'd seen a white cat with orange markings - dead, in front of the next house. I showed him her photo. He was old. He wasn't sure. I never got a real answer.
That was 2 years ago. I still imagine she'll show up someday. And then the reality hits all over again.
I just needed somewhere to say this out loud: Beluga, I'm sorry. I should have opened the door that night.
I still stare at the spot where you used to sit and wait for me. My eyes tear up every time.
I didn't even get to say goodbye. And that is something I will carry for the rest of my life.