The one I've waited four years for

An Unexpected Beginning

During my PhD, I got to know a small black and white cat named Jackson.

Initially, he wasn't mine. He had a Dutch owner who, at one point, rather casually mentioned that the mother cat no longer "called him home for food." It was a simple sentence, but it didn't feel right.

I wasn't ready to have a cat yet. I was still studying, living in a rented house, and my life wasn't truly stable. I didn't dare promise a cat a permanent home. But I couldn't just leave him like that.

So, I made a decision that wasn't easy but was clear: I would take him in.

Preparing for a life together

Four years passed from the moment I first seriously considered getting a cat until the day I actually brought one home.

Before Jackson came home, I calmly prepared everything — his litter box, carrier, food and water bowls. Nothing fancy, just the basics, but with care.

Because once I had made the decision, it really had to mean something. It wasn't just about giving him a place, but about creating an environment where he could feel safe and welcome.

When he first came to me, he weighed only 3.6 kilos — small, thin, and very timid. He usually hid under the bed and only came out to eat or use the litter box.

I didn't force anything. I didn't try to get him closer.

Just space, patience, and time.

More Than Just a Pet

I am grateful to have met Jackson during my PhD years.

What he brought me was never just the feeling of “having a cat.” It was a very quiet, stable, and healing form of companionship.

Every time I look at him, there seems to be light in his round eyes. They are bright, soft, and hold something innocent and sweet.

To me, Jackson isn't just a cat I later adopted. He is family—the one I waited four years for and finally got to have in my life.

Trust, step by step

Slowly, trust grew, in small moments.

Before I had a cat, I always said with certainty that cats were not allowed on the bed. That didn't last long.

In the beginning, Jackson lay cautiously at my feet. Then a little closer, next to my legs. And eventually, he slept against my back, as if it had always been that way.

Looking back now, those small changes are especially valuable. Trust didn't come all at once—he gave it piece by piece.

He has always been a calm and gentle cat. He doesn't break anything and rarely causes trouble.

The first time I bathed him, he was clearly scared, but he didn't attack me. At that moment, he felt less like a pet and more like a gentle, small life—trying to understand and accept me in his own way.