Blackie in 2014. By Kendrick Tran

My sons and I adopted Blackie and Stormy in August of 2009 when the kittens were just seven weeks old. They had been left at the shelter with their five siblings only a week before we met them. When my family arrived at Love at First Sight, only Blackie and Stormy were still waiting for a forever home.

Keaton wanted Stormy, a gray female tabby. Blackie, a male, was the runt of the litter and much smaller than his sister. His black fur was dull and thin. Kendrick and I both feared he would never be adopted and would live out his days at the shelter. Although I had only promised my sons one kitten, we left the shelter with two.

We introduced the kittens to their new home, and immediately their personalities began to emerge. Blackie was the curious one who wanted to explore while Stormy was the cuddler and loved being held. The first mealtime revealed the reason Blackie was small and a bit bedraggled. Stormy refused to let her brother eat. I had set out two bowls side by side. Stormy would sit in one as she ate from the other. The simplest solution was to set the bowls far apart so she couldn’t guard the other bowl. This worked and Blackie began to thrive. His coat filled in and became glossy and rich in color. Unlike his sister, Blackie loved to play and always wanted to be in the middle of everything. Although he was mostly an indoor cat, he was eager to investigate every corner of our fenced backyard. At first, he only wanted to be outside if Kendrick was but soon felt secure enough to explore on his own.

Blackie and Kendrick's first photo

The ring of the doorbell signaled danger to Stormy, and she would run and hide under my bed. To Blackie, the sound meant someone or something new. It was rare for me to get to the door before he did. Blackie greeted everyone and even made friends with our neighbors’ dogs.

Despite the abundance of food at home, Blackie never lost the mealtime insecurity he developed as a kitten. Often when I was cooking, he would be on the kitchen counter and getting in my way. When he was younger, I would simply put him outside, and he would watch me from his perch on the windowsill. As he grew into an old man cat, he could no longer jump on the counter from the floor. He could, however, jump from the couch to a barstool and then to the counter. The solution was to make sure all the barstools were out of range of the couch whenever I cooked. Once the meal was served, Blackie knew Kendrick would not only let him sniff his food but would even slip him a little something if it was chicken or fish.

As my boys grew into young men and went to college, Blackie and Stormy spent more time with me. Blackie followed me everywhere and often meowed questions at me. Although I was never certain what he was saying, I imagine it was either, “The food bowl is dangerously low” or “Is Kendrick coming home soon?” If he heard the garage door open, Blackie would rush to the door—no doubt hoping it would be Kendrick. If it was, Blackie would abandon me as his companion in favor of his chosen human.

The last photo of Kendrick and Blackie

Early in 2024, Blackie began sneezing. At first, the veterinarian wasn’t concerned. When the sneezing worsened and other symptoms appeared, she recommended antibiotics. The drugs had no effect. He underwent several more tests and additional treatments. Nothing helped. Dr. Manos told me early on that cancer was a possibility, but we all hoped for the best. His symptoms continued to worsen, and he stopped eating. By the end of August, it was clear Blackie was suffering and that he would not be with us much longer. He died in Kendrick’s arms on September 6, 2024.

For the first time in 15 years, there is no little friend to meet us at the door when we come home. No black furball is in my way as I make dinner. And there is no Blackie to remind me to put food in their bowls. The house is quiet now even though it’s far from empty.

Two years before we adopted Blackie and Stormy, we lost Sasha. She was the cocker spaniel I adopted long before I married and had a family. She loved people and cats and never met a stranger. Although she died before Blackie was born, in my mind’s eye I saw her greet him at the Rainbow Bridge. I know they have already become friends.

I will mourn Sasha for the rest of my life, and now Kendrick will also know the pain of a pet’s loss. Perhaps he can take comfort, as I do, in imagining that Sasha is watching over Blackie and that they will be together at the Rainbow Bridge when we are all reunited someday.