mooodycherry

I came home from Bali expecting jet lag, laundry and a suitcase I would probably leave half-unpacked for three days.

Instead, I came home to a momma cat and a litter of kittens next to my front door.

And they looked freshly born.

Suddenly, vacation felt very far away.

My sisters and I immediately started feeding momma and made a safe space for her and the babies in our air-conditioned garage. We weren’t trying to interfere. We just wanted to make sure this tiny little family was fed, cool and safe.

Eventually, momma moved them into our yard.

Then she started moving them somewhere else.

One by one, they disappeared.

Except for one.

One Tiny Boy Stayed

At first, we assumed she’d come back for him.

So we waited.

And waited.

We kept him warm and fed while still giving his mom every chance to return.

Days passed.

She never did.

Eventually, we realized this tiny baby wasn’t waiting for his mom anymore.

He needed us.

And somewhere between making sure he was eating enough, keeping him warm and Googling every tiny thing he did, I became completely attached.

All I could think was:

I need this little guy to make it.

Somehow, He’s Comforting Me Too

I didn’t expect how much joy taking care of him would bring me.

Now I genuinely look forward to coming home because I know he’s there.

He has this little habit of climbing onto my chest, curling himself up against me and falling asleep.

And every single time, my heart melts.

There’s something about this impossibly tiny animal choosing my chest as the place where he feels safe enough to sleep that gets me.

He doesn’t know anything about me.

He doesn’t know if I had a bad day or what’s stressing me out or what I need to get done tomorrow.

He just knows warmth.

My voice.

My heartbeat.

Safety.

And when he’s sleeping on my chest, suddenly everything else feels a little quieter.

Of Course, My Cancer Venus Makes Sense Now

Eventually I thought about my birth chart because… obviously.

I have Venus in Cancer in my 6th house, and this entire experience feels almost comically fitting.

Cancer is connected to nurturing, home, protection and emotional safety. Venus can show us what brings us comfort and affection, while the 6th house is tied to our everyday routines and acts of care.

I’m not saying my birth chart predicted an abandoned kitten would appear at my house.

But apparently my Cancer Venus saw one tiny motherless baby and said:

well, that’s our son now.

And honestly? Fair.

Maybe This Is Wellness, Too

I’ve been thinking a lot about wellness lately, and maybe it doesn’t always have to be about improving ourselves.

Sometimes wellness is simply having something that brings you into the present.

Something that makes home feel warmer.

Something that gives you a reason to slow down.

I’m technically taking care of him. I’m feeding him, keeping him warm and doing everything I can to help him grow.

But somehow, he’s taking care of a little part of me too.

He has made my days sweeter. He’s given me something to look forward to when I come home. And he’s reminded me that love doesn’t always arrive dramatically.

Sometimes it weighs almost nothing.

Sometimes it needs a bottle.

And sometimes it climbs onto your chest, listens to your heartbeat and falls asleep.

For now, I just want to watch this tiny boy grow.

And I’ll happily be his safe place while he does.

I wrote this before things changed. This morning to be exact. 9/20/26

I Thought I Would Get to Watch Him Grow

I wrote the first part of this blog while he was still here.

When I wrote about him climbing onto my chest, falling asleep to my heartbeat and how much I looked forward to coming home to him, I had no idea I’d be coming back to finish this without him.

I really thought I was going to get to watch him grow.

And now, I miss him more than I know how to explain.

I’m heartbroken…very heart broken.

It’s crazy how something so tiny could take up so much space in my life so quickly. My days started revolving around him—his bottles, keeping him warm, checking on him, making sure he was okay. Coming home meant getting to see him. And one of my favorite things became feeling his tiny body crawl onto my chest and fall asleep there. I loved that feeling more than anything.

Now I keep thinking about those moments and wishing I could have just one more.

One more bottle. One more little climb onto my chest. One more night of checking on him. One more time hearing his tiny noises and knowing he was there.

I wanted him to make it so badly. So so badly.

I keep replaying everything in my head and wondering if there was something more I could have done. I had already started imagining him getting bigger, developing his little personality and becoming part of my life as I was planning to convince my fiance if he could be ours. I couldn’t imagine my life without him. He’s perfect in many ways and more. But now I really do have to imagine it because he’s gone. He’s gone to the little kitty heaven in the sky as kitten faded syndrome took him from me. From experiencing life. From the world…

I never imagined I’d have to say goodbye this soon.

But as heartbroken as I am, I keep reminding myself of what he did know during his short little life.

He knew warmth.

He knew a full belly.

He knew my voice and my heartbeat.

He knew what it felt like to climb onto someone he trusted, curl up on their chest and fall asleep feeling safe.

And he was so, so loved.

I originally started writing this as a little story about wellness—about how unexpectedly taking care of this tiny kitten brought me comfort and gave me something to look forward to every day.

I didn’t know that by the time I finished writing it, I’d be grieving him.

Maybe I don’t need to turn that grief into a lesson yet.

Right now, I just miss him. I really really miss him.

I miss holding him. I miss worrying about him. I miss looking down and seeing his tiny face asleep against me.

And I hate that the ending of this blog isn’t the one I originally imagined.

I wanted to come back months from now and tell you how big he’d gotten. How much he has thrived. How much he loves playing with my dog Colt. That he has overcome being the runt of the liter.

Instead, I get to tell you his name.

His name was Dexter. Originally Dolly P since we thought he was a girl at first.

And I love him so very much. More than anyone could imagine.

I couldn’t give Dexter the long life I pictured for him, but I got to be his safe place while he was here. And somehow, that tiny little boy became one of mine too.

Loving him and losing him has broken my heart, but it has also shown me just how much love I have to give to little lives that need it.

So this won’t be the end of fostering for me.

For as long as I’m able, I’m going to do my very best to keep opening my home and my heart to animals who need somewhere safe to land. There will never be another Dexter, and loving another foster will never replace him.

It’ll just mean that some of the love he brought out of me gets to keep going.

I wish more than anything that I could have watched you grow, Dexter. I love you so much mi chiquitito.

Thank you for trusting my chest as your safe place.

I love you so very much.

xoxoxoxoxoxo,

mooodycherry