The Quiet Where He Used to Stand
We’ve been doing this work since 2021.
It started with one cat.
Then another. Then a colony.
They came a-meowing, and we answered their calls as best we could; dedicated to doing better by them every day.
In June 2024, one year ago, Cutter and I made it official.
We formed Cat Patch Inc. as a 501(c)3 nonprofit.
Not because the work changed, but because the universe kept showing us how much it mattered.
We wanted to protect these lives in a lasting way.
To grow the standard of care and expand the radius of cats helped.
To help others with our experience.
Because a community changes when colony cats move in.
Home becomes more than a place, it's a feeling inspired by their furry little faces.
We had just made it real: filed the papers, shared the vision, daring to dream bigger.
Then, just three months later, as new hope began to take root…
Cutter was diagnosed with stage four cancer.
Suddenly, everything we planned together became something I somehow maintained solo.
Through sheer will, passion, and love, I poured my entire being into them.
Because if the colony needed more than I had, I’d find a way to give it anyway.
I’d donate the very fire of my soul, if that’s what it took to keep them warm.
They are, after all, the ones who reignited it in the first place.
This kind of love doesn’t quit when things get hard.
It roots deeper. It stays.
Fundraising. Caretaking. Sanctuary building. Grant writing. Educating.
I nearly gave the hearth itself trying to keep all these fires lit.
But, they don’t need me burnt out.
They just need me steady.
Maintaining what we already built.
Gently.
Lit from within by love, not just lit up by duty.
The colony knows.
They don’t understand cancer, but they know.
They feel how the sorrow has changed the cadence of my step.
How my mind drifts.
How my peace wavers.
They may not understand stage four…
but they feel it in the quiet where he used to stand.
They’ve grown softer. Slower.
Tomlynn sticks close. Albert hovers near.
Eager faces tilted toward the door, in hopes of gentle head pets from Cutter as he emerges for chemo again.
Squeak stops long enough to notice how I’m doing.
Even Gator, all fire and pride, leans in like she’s trying to hold me together, awkwardly offering gentleness the only way she knows how…
supporting the roar of my flame with hers.
A whole new generation only knows Cutter from afar.
I daydream of how the leaders tell his tale to the newbies.
The rock, the support, the grounding force.
A legend passed down through slow blinks, tail flicks, and whisker twitches.
Cat Patch is a sanctuary.
The cats live in their natural habitat.
They come when they’re ready.
And when they do, we meet them where they are.
Some need shelter. Some need medicine.
Some just need someone to care that they exist.
And we do.
The colony knows things aren’t the same.
They feel it.
And still…they trust.
They show up, because I still do.
Hoping he’ll be back to fill the quiet again real soon.
-Kayla
They still show up.
And in their way, they help me keep showing up, too.
