Guest writer: Dylan Henriksen
I pulled into the driveway, gazing up at the beautiful redwoods through my bug splattered windshield as I parked my car. It’s a year later as I nervously climb the steps to Wild Cat Education and Conservation Fund (WCE&CF) as a new volunteer. As I enter, I hear a warning from inside as Rob moves toward the door to the hallway where the new black leopard kitten is scampering about. Walking in on exotic kittens seems to be in my cards, a déjà vu moment that reminds me of Bandhu. I can’t help but hope that he still has his unique smile, a symphony of soft pink and fluffy white. I am certain that by now all of his kitten fur is gone, replaced by a thick, water repellent coat. Will he recognize me? Definitely not. Kittens forget people and their faces just as easily as we do when we are babies. No, he won’t remember a single thing about me. He won’t remember me gazing down at his heavy eye lids and gaping yawn. He won’t remember the uneven texture of my old jacket, nor will he remember the sound of my voice.
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