My cat, Panther, passed away this past Saturday. If I can be honest, I didn’t think I was going to be as affected as much as I have been. I only knew Panther for roughly 2 years.

I’d say the reason I’ve been saddened by Panther’s passing is because of how close I got to him.

When I first learned Panther was going to be living in my apartment, I was pissed. I got into a heated argument with my family over this. I simply didn’t like cats. However, I accepted it later on with continued disdain.

It wasn’t until I got back from basic training and began experiencing depression that I got close to Panther. Whenever I felt sad or whenever I was in bed feeling like shit, Panther would come to my room. He’d get on my bed and just be with me. He’d lie down as if I was welcoming him.

It wasn’t like I called him or anything. It’s like he wanted to be with me.

At first, I found it annoying that he kept entering my room. But the more he did it, the more comforted I felt with his presence.

The more he entered my room, the more I built a bond with him. I began taking more selfies with him any time I was with him. I even started telling people he was MY cat. 

As crazy it sounds, Panther helped me get through that rough patch in my life simply with his presence. It’s why his death has affected me so much despite only knowing him for 2 years.

If I could describe Panther to someone, I’d say that he’s a fat, lazy, adorable cat who sleeps all day. Before you say I’m mean, nobody in my family would disagree with me!

Yet, this fat, “lazy”, adorable cat meant a lot to me.

Panther, I miss you and I always will. I love you so much and thank you for being there for me when I needed it most.