If you know anything about me, you know my heart beats purrs and whiskers. After losing W. and Teddy, my two cats, to kidney disease, I knew it would take time before I could open my heart again to anything. Honestly, probably even a plant. Grief is real, and I wrote about it in my Grief, Whiskers, & Watercolor article.
Time passed. Healing began slowly. And though their memory will never fade, I started imagining the next chapter…the kind of kitten I thought I wanted, the familiar traits I felt comfortable with, the picture I had in my mind.
Eventually, the moment came. I found one, a beautiful boy kitten I thought would be the start of that next chapter. Yet as much as I’d love to say it all worked out and his forever home was with us, that wasn’t the case. I was devastated.
Time passed. Life went on. The business continued. But here’s my secret…
At night, when the world was quiet, I found myself scrolling even though my heart felt like stone. I was looking for him, my new boy, but with almost no hope. It felt like it would take a miracle. And out of the hundreds of sweet faces, I just didn’t see him. And I know every cat deserves love; that’s exactly why it felt so strange that none of them felt like mine.
In between scrolling, I wished a cat would just show up at my door and force me to face the truth: New love can form again. But underneath that wish was fear that had grown into a mountain.
“What if we don’t bond?” “What if this is the wrong time?”
But if I’m being honest, that was fear talking. Those were the walls I was building. Because as the classic story goes, I was afraid of getting hurt.
Until…it happened.
It was 9:00 p.m. when I stopped scrolling on a picture—a 2‑month‑old kitten with a precious round face, oversized ears, and growing fur. More gray and black than I expected—a tiny, magical little wolf of a girl kitten I didn’t see coming.
“No, no. This can’t be,” I said out loud, even as my heart fluttered. “Not what I pictured. Not what I planned.”
I wrestled with myself. My mind listed every reason this wasn’t right, while my heart quietly began imagining a future filled with adventures and cuddles. I backtracked, replaying every fear and every reason to stay guarded.
I’ve never had a problem with female cats; I just never owned one. So, I assumed the next cat would be another boy, another familiar type. But this was different.
In my fear, I realized something important: It had nothing to do with gender, color, or expectations.It was simply the choice between the comfort of what I knewand the possibility of what I didn’t see coming.
I was choosing to stay guarded instead of letting a new chapter begin.
Before bringing home any pet, her or another, I believe in releasing the fear first. So, that’s what I’m working on. Because if I ever meet the next cat meant for me, I want to show up open, not bracing.
And here’s the truth I didn’t expect: It doesn’t necessarily mean I must bring a new cat home today. It’s noticing that when a tiny gray‑and‑black wolf appeared on my screen, I didn’t shut down this time.
This is proof that my heart is opening to try again, and that love can look like any breed, any gender, any color.
And I am grateful for this lesson.
It reminded me that we all stand at the edge of comfort and possibility at different moments in our lives.
Let's create together, Stephanie Christley Founder & Owner of SLChristley Designs All content and creative assets on this site are original to SLChristley Designs and may not be used without written permission.
