The Most Beautiful Lie Someone Ever Told Me
A few years ago, I was scrolling through Instagram looking for a cat to adopt. I’ve always loved natural, street cats. After a few days of searching, I came across a photo of a tiny kitten so beautiful that I instantly fell in love.
There were four siblings. One of them was a girl. Although I’d initially wanted the male one, I decided to choose the female — because I already had a male cat called Neptune (I’ll tell you about him later), who was very much an alpha. Everyone warned me that introducing a second cat could be risky. At the very least, I hoped for a calm one.
At the time, I was working as a home-based therapist. I searched for pet shops on Instagram and found one with kittens. I told them I was interested in the yellow one.
“Come and see them,” she said.
The shop owner was sweet and knowledgeable. She told me to sit with the kittens, hold them, and choose the one I bonded with. I felt relieved. This way, I could form a connection first.
When I arrived, the woman working there asked all the right questions.
“What kind of food do you feed your current cat? Are there screens on your windows? What floor do you live on?”
While we talked, I watched the kitten I’d seen in the photo. He was crying constantly. They were still very young, so I had to wait a little while.
Another kitten — smoky one — jumped around and climbed all over me like a gymnast. He was adorable, but I worried he’d clash with Neptune.
The yellow one — the “logical” choice because she was female — was beautiful and majestic. She lay still, watching me like a baby lion. She didn’t seem interested in me. I guessed I wasn’t going to be lucky.
And the kitten I’d fallen in love with? Even more beautiful in real life. But he was a boy. And he was always moving and crying.
The shop owner smiled and said,
“You liked this one in the photo, right? This one’s the calmest.”
She pointed to the tiny, photogenic male cat.
“He’s very calm. Take this one.”
I was excited. I took him home. He meowed so loudly in the carrier that people turned to stare. I rushed him to the vet. He received his vaccinations, and the vet noted that he was afraid of heights. (He overcame this fear in a month.)
I introduced him slowly. Separate rooms at first. But when I opened the door, he charged into the house like a lion cub. He roared at Neptune.
Neptune — the alpha (then I named the kitten Mercury) — would approach him and try to talk, but they’d end up fighting every five minutes.
Within days, I realised I had one of those wild cats you see on YouTube. He smashed cups at 3 a.m., howled non-stop, and drove the neighbours insane. People came knocking. They weren’t wrong.
He wasn’t calm.
He was never calm.
And the woman at the shop knew it.
But I see it now. That day. That sentence:
“I’m glad you took that cat.”
I remember the worst moments:
Neighbours telling me to leave him on the street.
One vet even told me — knowing how cold winters were in this city — to just abandon him outside. (If you’re reading this, I hope one day someone leaves you there so you understand.)
Herbal treatments. Broken sleep. Two distressed cats in one apartment.
But I found better vets.
After three or four visits, we found the right medication.
Things changed.
Now Mercury and Neptune play together.
They nap side by side.
The lie the pet shop told me?
That Mercury was calm?
It was the most beautiful lie anyone has ever told me.
Thank you.
I’m glad I took him.
