I have a different outlook on life because the world didn’t end when I was 16.

I remember the drive over to my grandma’s house and the pure happiness I felt in that moment. I knew I wouldn’t be leaving empty-handed: I would be leaving with a new responsibility. As soon as I looked at her I knew she was the one. My mom, however, wanted a different kitten. As stubborn as I was, I wasn’t going to change my mind. My mom caved in and we left with two kittens instead of one; we thought the pair of sisters could keep each other company when we were away. As an overjoyed 4-year-old, I couldn’t wait to begin brainstorming ideas of what to name my new kitten. With my limited vocabulary and flourishing creativity, I named her Panda.

As Panda grew, so did I, and we quickly became inseparable and the best of friends. Over the years I considered many different names, but Panda was always the one I stuck with. To a 4-year-old, she resembled a panda with black spots on her ears and legs. At the time we lived in a trailer park and she found her way outside many times. As we opened the door she would sneak past and run outside (luckily our yard was fenced in and she never got past the gate). 

I often recall Panda looking through the window of my parent’s bedroom waiting for my return home from school. When she saw me she would vanish from the window, and as I entered the house and into the hallway I could see her waiting for me. She would follow me close behind, always keeping an eye on me. I slept on the side of the bed closest to the wall but I left a stack of blankets for her to sleep on: it was her spot.

Last summer, a bat had found its way into our house. It didn’t cause a huge issue in the moment, but I found it strange because I hadn’t seen Panda at all. I questioned my family, but they quickly assured me she couldn’t have gone far. My stepdad spent the next day searching the entire house for her with no luck. We then noticed the window screen in my parent’s bedroom was knocked out and had fallen to the ground a story below, we open the windows of the house in the summer to cool the house down. We believed that Panda was jumping and swinging at the bat flying around and bumped into the open window and knocked out the screen causing both her and the window screen to fall to the ground. I hoped that this would be like one of the times at our old home in the trailer park but with no fence and a world for her to explore. Despite our best efforts of searching for her we were unsuccessful and I came to the conclusion that she was gone, that I had lost my best friend. Days turned into weeks and I began losing hope that we would find her. I was absolutely heartbroken and devastated at the thought of a life without Panda.

Today marks 191 days without my best friend. In the days that followed her disappearance, I sat in disbelief staring at the pictures and videos that accumulated over the years with tears streaming down my face, I always knew that one day she would leave me but I thought we still had years together. I always thought it was inconvenient owning black clothes with a white cat when her hair stands out so clearly all over my clothes. I stare at the hairs that cover my clothes and ponder the life we were supposed to have together. It hurts me immensely not knowing what happened to her or even if she is still alive. I would like to hope that one day she will find her way back to me, but until then I leave you with a quote: “to you, they’re just a small chapter of your life, but to them, you’re their whole book.”