Tara’s Story — What It Means to Love and Be Loved

Part I — Tara

There had been no cats for years. The space had been quiet for a long time, as if that part of life had closed. Then in 2017, Mimi arrived — small, fragile, and entirely unexpected — and something opened again. It did not happen all at once, but once it began, it did not stop.

Tara was found on the ground floor of a government housing block in Singapore (HDB). She was desperately approaching passers-by, clutching at their ankles, forcing attention, begging for food. It was not aggression. It was hunger. This was when she attracted the attention of a CatsHope™ Feeder in the area.

She was approximately seven to ten weeks old at the time. Tiny, frail and parasite-ridden, she appeared to have been recently abandoned. She was taken in due to her age, vulnerability, and condition.

When Tara arrived, Mimi was a nine-month-old Siamese cat who had already made the household her own. Tara observed how Mimi behaved and how she was treated. She saw that Mimi was well loved and she tried her best to fit in. Mimi had been too long without a pack of her own, and did not accept Tara straightaway. In fact, it took Mimi one year to fully accept Tara. And like all siblings, sometimes they were friends and sometimes they were not.

On the day they were both due for a veterinary visit, there had been some tension between them earlier that morning. Yet neither objected when they were placed together in the same carrier, with little room to move apart. Both were frightened. This was unfamiliar territory, and neither knew what awaited them.

At the clinic, Mimi began to tremble, unsettled by the unfamiliar surroundings. Tara immediately placed a protective foreleg over her, shielding and comforting her as best she could within the confined space. Her loyalty and protectiveness were unmistakable and deeply moving.

When it was time to be handled, Tara bravely stepped forward first, volunteering for whatever was to come. There was no hesitation.

Soon, the visit was over, and both returned home safely to resume their lives as siblings. As their relationship developed, Mimi began showing Tara the ropes—where to go, what to do and how things worked around the household. Together, they raced through the apartment, leapt off walls and furniture, and shared meals and sleeping places.

Tara patrolled the premises at night, keeping watch over the perimeter. With the three distinctive stripes behind her front paws, she affectionately earned the nickname Sergeant Tara.

Tara’s transformation is inspiring. She had arrived desperate, forcing survival in every interaction. But in this new space, she began to position herself differently — not only for herself, but for others. She is fiercely loyal and protective of her pack.

This is her story.

Part II — I Watch. I Choose.

When I came, I saw her.
I didn’t know her name yet.
But I knew.

She was the one.

She didn’t run.
She didn’t push.
She didn’t fight.
But everything came back to her.

So I watched.

At first, we didn’t get along.
She didn’t like me.
I didn’t mind.
I stayed anyway.

It took a long time.
A whole year.

Then we became close.

I learned her ways.
Not all of it.
Just enough.

Then another one came.

Angel.

I saw her come in.
I didn’t like it.
I ran at her.
Fast.

Mummy was in the way.
Mummy got hurt.

I didn’t mean that.
I just knew something had changed.

But Angel stayed.
She watched too.

Just like I did.

She also knew.

Mimi was the one.

Angel wanted that place.
The same way I did.

But we became friends first.
Faster than Mimi.

We stayed close.
We played.
We moved together.

Mimi took longer.
She always does.

But when she accepted Angel,
everything changed again.

After that, I stopped charging.

When new ones came,
I didn’t run at them anymore.

They were placed in the cage.
I watched from outside.

I understood.

They were staying.

So I stayed too.

Later, there were many of us.

Mimi.
Angel.
Tami.
The babies.
Kimi.

Something in me changed then.

After the doctor,
we all changed… inside.

I knew I would not have my own.

So I chose.

Rockie.
The little ones.

I stayed near them.
I watched them.
I kept them close.

They were mine to care for.

Not because they came from me.

Because I chose them.

I don’t need to be first.
I don’t need to be her.

I just need to know where I stand.
And who is mine.

I loved.

I loved in my way.
Not soft all the time.
Not quiet all the time.

But I stayed.
I stood close.
I did not leave.

I learned.

What it means to be loved.

To have a place.
To have someone come back.
To not be alone.

We were not born together.

But we stayed.

And we became something.

A family.
A furmily.

I watch.
I choose.
I stay.