Some pets arrive quietly. Others barrel into your life with bold eyes and bigger personalities. Festo was definitely the second kind.
I still remember the day we met him. We popped into Pet Centre in Lower Hutt “just to look” while waiting for Jono, and there he was. A tabby kitten with perfect stripes, a round spotted tummy, and the sweetest little face. We fell for him in seconds. He came home the same day, as if it had been the plan all along.
He grew into such a character, a unit of a cat, with confidence, drama, and wild intelligence to boot. His morning routine was pure chaos. He’d knock my makeup off shelves, swing the artwork above the bed, and/or claw the curtains with purpose. Not one item of Jono’s was ever touched, which figures. And yet, he was the most affectionate cat we’ve ever had. He loved snuggles. Loved head butts. Loved lying between us in his ‘Festo Valley’ like he’d belonged there forever.
A Gut Punch of a Phone Call
Jono and I unfortunately separated in late 2021, I was living in Australia when everything changed. Kaydes was six months old. It was late April 2022, and Jono was up in Palmerston North working on a house. He’d taken the cats with him while staying there long term. One day Festo slipped out. A car hit him on 28/29 April, and he didn’t make it back.
When Jono called me, I froze. My whole body felt hollow. I didn’t react gracefully. I cried, I panicked, I tried to make sense of something that never would. At the same time, I knew Jono would be hurting too. Losing Festo felt like losing a piece of our shared life, and we were grieving from different sides of the Tasman.
Some moments stay sharp. The silence after the call. The weight of Kaydes sleeping in my arms. The numb feeling that sat in my chest for weeks. Even now, it still catches me off guard. Grief for a pet hits in strange waves. It sits in the routines that disappear. The evening cuddle that doesn’t come. The toys left untouched. The habits that used to annoy you but now break your heart.
One Year On
Festo wasn’t just a pet. He was part of our family. Filling our days with humour and noise and warmth. He taught me to slow blink back, and patience with his 8am chaos. He taught me how deeply animals can love in their own gentle, stubborn ways.
On the first anniversary of losing him, I’ve also made an Instagram reel which you can watch here.
It’s still true. Some losses don’t soften; they just become part of the landscape. You learn to carry them.
But I’m grateful too. We got four years with him. Four years of cuddles and chaos. Four years of being chosen by a cat who loved with his whole heart. He changed our home, our routines, and our lives. I’d take the pain again for the joy he gave us. Every single bit of it.
Lore & Tempo is where motherhood meets adventure. I’m Ren – storyteller, explorer, and single mum in Wellington, New Zealand. I’ve been lucky enough to wander through 45 countries. 15 of them with my +1, Kaydes, either strapped to my front, on my hip, or running ahead on her own adventures. I created this space to share single parent life, travel tips, and the joy of exploring the world.
