Juniper Jo

05.03.26

I woke up yesterday and my kitten was cuddled up next to me dead.

There’s no softer way to say that. It was immediate and wrong and nothing about it made sense. My sweet Juniper Jo, six months old, warm, always curled up right against me, was just…gone.

Yesterday felt like a raging storm. Anger, sadness, confusion. My mind kept trying to turn this into something meaningful, like if I could just figure out the grand lesson, it would take the edge off. Like there had to be a reason I was supposed to understand and right now.

This morning my thoughts shifted a little. Not in a way that fixed anything, just a different perspective. Maybe this isn’t about me.

Maybe she was just this small, perfect, loving little soul who was here for a short time. And while she was here, she had a life that was full in the ways that matter. Warmth, safety, being held, being wanted. She slept next to me every night because she felt safe enough to. That’s trust and comfort. That’s everything.

Yesterday I wanted to cancel everything and isolate. It would have been so much easier. But I didn’t. I kept my plans and spent time with my best friend, and it was good for my soul. Good to have her back home in Idaho. When she’s in Mexico, we still talk everyday but there’s something about knowing she’s 5 miles away that makes life softer.

Last night at my meeting, I lost my shit reading the promises. It hit me out of nowhere how perfect she was, how simple and pure she was, and I couldn’t keep it together. I looked around and remembered I wasn’t alone. I was surrounded by people who love me, and a few of my girlfriends were right there near to me. I managed to pull it together enough to stay.

I didn’t get to choose how long she stayed. I didn’t get a warning. I didn’t get to fix it. And I can feel the part of me that wants to fight that, to make it make sense, to grab for control where there isn’t any.

Recovery keeps bringing me back to the same place. I don’t get to control outcomes. I just don’t.

So here I am, sitting in it sober. Feeling all of my feelers without trying to escape or numb it out. And I wouldn’t trade that for anything, even if it’s uncomfortable as hell.

The truth is simple and heavy at the same time, I loved her. She loved me in the way animals do, fully and without hesitation. Maybe there isn’t a clean lesson wrapped up in this. Maybe it’s just that something good existed, and I got to be part of it. I got to give her a home where she was safe and cared for and loved every single day of her short life.

And now she’s gone, and I miss her. But I’m still here.