Truman was my partner for 11 years. He was, without a doubt, the love of my life. He taught me about the magical and ineffable wonder of intimacy. I never could have imagined this possibility or prepared for it in any way. He changed my life forever and filled it with gifts beyond measure.

Truman was a cat, but everyone who met him considered him to be the most dog-like cat they’d ever met. Of the many compliments he received, this was perhaps the most heartwarming and richly layered of all. He was a cat with the soul of a dog.

I met Truman on September 3, 2003, and it was love at first sight. As I left the San Francisco SPCA, carrying him in a cardboard box, I was thrilled and elated – but I also felt fear, insecurity, and doubt. That was a year filled with changes and challenges, and as I brought Truman home, my life felt a bit tentative and ungrounded. I was afraid I might not be up to everything contained in that cardboard box.

When I got back to my apartment, I opened the box, and an adorable orange kitten stepped out, cautiously and tentatively curious, mirroring my own feelings. That day, I had no idea that this four-month-old creature would eventually teach me so much about the joys of companionship and connection. Or that love could come from the most unexpected sources if our hearts are open, willing, and aware.

I realize a story about my life with a cat might seem puzzling in a publication dedicated to the celebration of all things canine. But the Bay Woof community is grounded in the understanding that our animal companions can enrich and transform our lives. Whether canine or feline, they can teach us about the expansive nuances and amazing possibilities of being alive. They seem to possess an innate innocent wisdom able to illuminate kindness, compassion, perception, and possibility. Plus, many dogs actually like cats.

And as I said, Truman was very dog-like. Dog lovers, cat lovers, and non-binary  animal lovers could all see his unique and charming personality, and many confirmed dog people were surprised by the shift in their feelings after meeting him. Like most dogs, he was affectionate and outgoing by nature. He would greet every guest with a welcoming invitation to “his” house. If your face came close to his, he would offer a disarming kitty kiss (even the cable guy got one). It was impossible to resist his endearing, open, friendly spirit.

Dogs of all shapes and sizes liked Truman and he met them with the same open and welcoming presence with which he greeted everyone. Many times, Truman and his new canine companion would wind up snoozing side-by-side shortly after meeting. Maybe the dogs sensed a kindred spirit.

Like a dog, Truman was exceptionally sensitive, intelligent, and intuitive. He always came when I called him, especially if he sensed I was lonely and wanted company. Many times, when I was feeling blue, I would be lying on my bed with my eyes closed, thinking about calling Truman to the rescue. When I opened my eyes, he would already be there, sitting right in front of me, having jumped up silently on his little cat feet. When I was ill and could not leave my bed for a week, Truman never left my side. We truly did take care of each other, in ways that were sustaining and comforting.

Remarkably, Truman never meowed or engaged in typical kitty vocalizing (more proof of his canine nature). Nevertheless, we could communicate in clear and meaningful ways, whether it was him snuggling nose to nose with me or me helping him understand changes in his world and how to adapt to them.

I learned so much from the life we shared. This dog-like cat gave me a reason for living when it was hard for me to find one. He brought joy to every day we shared, and we both taught each other the comfort and peaceful contentment of unconditional love.

Truman would have been 18 this past April. I lost him in 2014, and I still can’t talk about him without breaking down. But the joy and connection he brought to my life were gifts beyond measure or regret.

The world is disconcerting and at times incomprehensible. I’m often not sure how to make sense of things, or where I can look to find hope and comfort. But I still believe in some things.

I believe in the power of possibilities and the wonders of unexpected miracles. I believe that we all have the need to feel seen and heard and that we can offer that gift to others in ways we may never understand. I believe that connection is essential, but difficult to find – and that it can come from unexpected places. I believe in the power of stories to lend some sense of connection and shared humanity to our lives and to help us feel less alone as we face life’s many challenges and questions.

More than anything, I believe in Truman – in everything he showed me, everything he represents, and everything that is worthy of grace and gratitude. He was a most dog-like cat.