Kittens do not fade.

What makes us think we have the right to do otherwise?

You can find thousands of articles about “fading kitten syndrome.” I have no veterinary training, but I respectfully submit that this is the wrong word.

Callisto did not fade, any more than the moon dies when it slips our sight.

You will never meet her, but she will never leave us. She was a tortoiseshell kitten. It required patience and a tiny brush to paint her newborn body with nectarines and wren’s feathers.

I wish you could have met her, because she met your kindness. Her sneeze was so tiny, it would hardly ripple your a teacup. Her eyes never opened, though she saw friendly skies. She never walked far, but who should wander when her world is warm?

Callisto lived less than a week on Earth, but it was long enough to learn what matters.

It was long enough to be cherished, which is all that matters.

We are large and lumbering, and we forget what kittens know. We were preparing for our Cherish the Kittens Fund Drive when Callisto came, precious cargo in the belly of her mother.

Mama Jupiter was calico and celestial, feral in name only. Her eyes filled with peace as our eyes filled with tears. She arrived in time. She would have her babies under a good star. She would have every advantage that adoration can offer, with the world’s best vet team on standby.

She would have five babies she loved more than life. One would be gone before moonrise. We would weep and kiss her and cherish the four as though they were the first kittens we had ever seen.

Callisto, brand new, knew that every kitten is as precious as the first.

Callisto, with the tiny sneeze and the hand-painted nectarines, would live two days.

Kittens do not fade, although we do, for hours or days at a time. Our hearts are softer than their tiny bodies. Each loss presses down hard, leaving prints that no tears will wash away.

We “know” that kittens are fragile. We “know” that our valor and love cannot save them all. We “know,” but information pouts in our brains, refusing to walk the lonely eighteen-inch highway to our hearts.

We blame ourselves, which feels terrible yet somehow productive. We “know” we could not have done more. Foster mom Tiana and birth mom Jupiter would have rearranged galaxies. They knew what they were doing. They loved like their lives depended on it.

(Let us all pause here to marvel at Tiana, a woman composed entirely of love, courage, and brilliance, which in her case overlap as beautifully as calico patches. She is my hero. She is the epitome of good. She is Callisto’s “mom” forever.)

Callisto did not make it.

But Callisto, with wren feathers and tiny toes, did not live in vain.

She reminds us to tremble in the presence of every kitten. They deserve our awe, no less than nebulas and glaciers. It should be international news each time a kitten survives.

We cherish the kittens — and we plead with you to Cherish the Kittens — because anything lovable is fragile on this howling planet.

We give, and love, and weep, and go sleepless, because they are worth it.

They are worth it when they turn into tangerine teenagers, frolicky Fortune Cookies flummoxing the odds.

They are worth it when they nurse safe in Jupiter’s arms, gaining ounces and courage.

They are worth it when they fade to brightness our eyes can no longer see, forever loved, forever ours.

Their frailty gives purpose to our strength.

Callisto’s siblings, Io, Europa, and Ganymede, are growing up as joyous little jigglepuffs in Jupiter’s embrace. They will live. They will blaze bright. They will carry Callisto in their double helix and in their dreams.

Will you carry her legacy forward?

Dear ones, if there is courage in your hearts, please don’t let it fade. Cherish the Kittens, that they may know love. Most of them, miracle of miracles, will live. All of them will be loved.

None, weak or strong, will fade.

Please Cherish the Kittens today. Your donation will be doubled. Your devotion will breathe life and light into the littlest stars. It will all be worth it. Love cannot fade.

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