On meaningful bonds

Willa was one of my kitty clients. A nervous, elusive little soul who shared her home with an older cat named Xena. Despite living together for years, they had never bonded. I had been told that no sitter had ever managed to approach Willa, let alone touch her. And when I first met her, I understood why. She would vanish the moment anyone unfamiliar entered the house.

I am very respectful when it comes to space and cats, so I let her be. Aside from the basics, I naturally spent more time with Xena, as she was also a senior kitty who needed extra care.

One afternoon, I arrived for a visit right after the cleaners had been there, and I found no trace of Willa. She was allowed out onto the roof terrace and would usually come back on her own, but the door to the roof was locked. I contacted their mom, who said she had probably left her outside without noticing before she went away. She told me to leave the door open and that Willa would likely come back, as she never strayed far.

I waited. I went up to the roof, searched the area, and called her. Willa seemed to have vanished. By then I was very worried, it was getting pretty late, but their mom was taking it quite lightly. She said Willa would probably return by morning, but I could not shake the feeling that such a nervous cat would not just wander off. Something felt off.

I did not go home. I searched around the building in case she had fallen, spoke to the neighbours, and checked every corner of the apartment, but I still could not find her. After many hours, just as I was starting to lose hope, I heard the tiniest meow.

I froze. Then I heard it again. I called her name, and there it was again. I could not tell where it was coming from.

I kept searching until I realised the sound was coming from outside a window. I opened it and there was Willa, holding on for dear life to the ledge. What was she doing there? She looked at me with wide, terrified eyes. This was a cat who was afraid of everyone! I wonder how much strength she had to muster to finally decide to ask a scary stranger for help!

I spoke to her softly, telling her it was okay, and stepped back to give her space. She looked into my eyes for a few seconds, and went for it. She bolted inside and disappeared into one of the bedrooms. She was still scared, but she was safe.

I informed their mom, and we figured the cleaners must have opened a window while they were there, and Willa had escaped. Luckily, she had not fallen or hurt herself.

I left for the night, to let her calm down.

The next morning, I came back to care for both her and Xena, and to my surprise, Willa was waiting next to Xena at the top of the stairs. As I approached, she walked away to the living room carpet, her tail up, and suddenly dropped and showed me her belly, doing a happy roll. I was stunned. Was I really seeing this? The skittish Willa wanted me to pet her?

I did. A lot. She purred, and even touched her nose to mine. Just like that, we were friends.

From then on, Willa repeated this ritual every time I visited. She would wait for me beside Xena at the top of the stairs. We would cuddle, she would eat, go explore the roof terrace, and then come back to cuddle and play again.

Xena eventually, and very sadly, passed away, breaking everyone’s hearts, including mine, but I continued caring for Willa. In fact, she practically became my own during the pandemic, when her owner could not return from her home country after the airports closed. I moved my office into her home and spent every day with her. I got to know her as well as I know my own two cats and enjoyed her much needed company and her sassy, funny antics in a time when I needed every reason to smile I could find. My days with Willa were love-filled, light and fun.

Her mom's situation got complicated in her country, so one day she asked me to put Willa on a flight to her. My heart broke into a million pieces. We had supported each other through that strange, uncertain time, and learned to truly trust and love one another... but she wasn't mine, and she had to go. I took her to all her check ups, organised all paperwork and made sure she had all the possibilities of a safe passage with all the love of the world. I spent her last night in the country with her, enjoying our last cuddles on the carpet and waved her goodbye until the van that would bring her to the airport turned the corner and disappeared from my sight. Willa left a big hole in my heart that no other cat will be able to fill. She was one in a million, and I am still grateful for everything she taught me during our time together.

The hole she left didn’t stay empty—it filled with something else: wisdom. Willa taught me that trust is earned, and that when we do find someone we trust, we should allow ourselves to let go and fully enjoy that relationship. Through her, I also discovered something about myself: that I’m willing to wait, to respect boundaries, and to earn trust rather than expect it. This ability has helped me so much in all the years of cat-sitting that followed.

I also learned that building a bond takes time, and that behind every skittish animal there is the potential for a wonderful friendship, waiting to flourish when you least expect it. She showed me that cats have an incredible instinct for who they can let in, and that it’s worth doing your best to be deserving of that privilege. When it clicks, the reward is simply priceless.

In the picture: Beautiful Willa and me.