A Stray Cat and Me, Time We Tamed Each Other

A story of love, attachment, and the quiet art of letting go — told through the eyes of a stray cat named Kamang.

🐾 Kamang / Black Cat

by Jaclyn Bae

It was about five years ago when I met Kamang, a stray cat.

One early autumn day, I first saw tiny kittens wriggling in my backyard. Watching them through the window felt surreal — a small mother cat, exhausted and fragile, sat apart from her five little ones. A mother cat and her five kittens — unexpected guests who brought warmth into my quiet life.

A few days later, I found them again in the stillness of the afternoon. I hurried to warm up some frozen fish, and the hungry kittens devoured it to the bone. From that day on, the little family often visited my backyard — tumbling over fallen leaves, peeking through the glass door, curious about the world inside. The food and water I provided seemed to give the weary mother a new strength.

As time passed, the kittens disappeared one by one, and soon only the mother lingered around. That mother cat was Kamang.

This spontaneous connection with a stray animal highlights the powerful role of the **Human-Animal Bond (HAB)**. The act of providing care—food, water, and warmth—is not solely altruistic; it fulfills a deep human need for **nurturing and connection**, which in turn releases feel-good hormones like **oxytocin** (the bonding hormone). Psychologically, a pet, even a temporary one like Kamang, acts as a **secure base** and **safe haven**, offering **unconditional love and companionship** that can significantly reduce feelings of **loneliness and stress**. This emotional exchange is the essence of why humans and animals "tame" each other, offering mutual psychological benefits that transcend species.

A black stray cat named Kamang resting in the backyard—her calm eyes reflecting resilience and gentleness.
Kamang, the black cat who made our backyard her home. © Jaclyn Bae

Years have passed, and now Kamang rules the backyard. She has survived blazing summers and freezing winters, and each morning she greets me at the sound of the door opening. Once wary of humans, she now nudges her head into my hand for affection and sometimes sprawls on the ground as if to claim her home.

It’s a problem, really — we’ve tamed each other.

In a few months, we’ll be moving away. The thought of leaving her behind weighs heavily on my heart. I tell myself to let go, to release, but it’s not easy. I know that many of life’s pains begin when we cling to what we must let go — and yet, here I am again, resisting the flow of nature.

I’ll tell the new homeowner about her, perhaps leave a bag of food and Kamang’s story. Until then, until our bond runs its course, I’ll keep her deeply in my eyes and heart.

The deep sadness you feel about the impending separation is a recognized phenomenon known as **anticipatory grief**, compounded by the intense emotional pain of potential **pet loss**. The powerful bond formed over years means the brain reacts to the loss of a pet similar to the loss of a human companion, often triggering feelings of anxiety, guilt, and depression. Furthermore, this unique relationship with a wild animal—where the bond is accepted yet the animal's freedom is respected—forces a profound reflection: the deepest love is often found not in possession, but in the **courage to release** what we most cherish to the flow of nature. This final, quiet act of faith is the ultimate expression of your shared, transformative bond.


Part of When Life Meets Art series by Jaclyn Bae


© 2025 Jaclyn Bae. All rights reserved.

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