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In the late summer of 2013, I saw a posting for three kittens that had been found in a barn. The poster said if no one took them, she would take them to a known high-kill shelter in my area.

Everyone was commenting saying they wished they could take them and so on, but no one was stepping up to the plate. I gave the lady my address, and she dropped them by. Three tiny, 3 week old kittens showed up on my doorstep.

I ran to the store and got kitten formula and bottles, and my boyfriend and I began hand feeding them, three times a day for another two weeks or so. When they were old enough to eat on their own and were litter trained, I found homes within my friend group for two of the three, while my boyfriend and I decided to keep the last one. He was the smallest, with big, beautiful green eyes.

My boyfriend and I developed a strong relationship with this cat. He was at the door stretching, yawning and meowing before I could even put down my bags. He slept between us every night until he was too big for us to get comfortable, and he loved every single person he met. He was really and truly, the light of our lives.

But after less than two years with us, he started acting different, not eating as much, not coming to the door when we came in. So we took him to the vet. More than $1000 later, we learned he had FIP(feline infectious peritonitis). We were so heartbroken. This cat that we bottle fed and loved with all our hearts since he was just a baby was going to die.

A week later, he stopped eating completely, and we knew it was time. Sending Lukah to the rainbow bridge was one of the hardest things I have ever had to go through in my life, but I am thankful for every day I spent with him, and for every day he came to the door, stretching and yawning for attention.