“Har gow and siu mai are inseparable,” my mother told me one night. “When you think of one, there’s always the other.”

She was talking about dim sum dishes, but this was my 8-year-old mind’s thought process as I saw the twin kittens in the Petco that were up for adoption. The two were just a few months old. With my birthday fast approaching, I remember asking my mother, “You don’t have to get anything for my birthday for five years… Can we please, please get them?”

My parents compiled a checklist of promises I’d need to make: I’d clean their kitty litter, I’d feed them, I’d dedicate my time to them. After I agreed to their conditions, we had two furry additions to our family, Kiki and Lulu. But the day the Petco employee brought the frightened carrier to our home, I wasn’t signing myself up just for a couple of chores–I signed myself up for years of memories, feelings, and love… and the overabundance of white cat hair on black pants.

To Kiki and Lulu:

Thank you for letting me watch you grow up, and for letting me grow with you. I’ve seen passages of your life, and you, mine. We’ve experienced, lived, and grown together.

Thank you for all the moments we’ve shared and for the ones to come. Nothing was monotonous with you, especially not the 1 a.m. zoomies up and down the hall that conveniently took place when everyone else was asleep.

Lulu, thank you for your love. Your head nudges comfort me (I swear, you have some telepathic knowledge that I’m feeling down) and greet me good morning (no doubt a self-fulfilling prophecy, those nudges are the source of my good mornings). And even though your licks are not the most sanitary, they are laps of love.

Kiki, we love you, and we miss you dearly. Your passing was premature, and moments spent with you were never overlooked. My parents thought you pretty and kind—you’d always let Lulu take your canned food. Lulu thought you brave, a loyal companion who’d always spend winters cuddling with her. (Dad was right, you two are the embodiment of the har gow and siu mai dishes; you’re the yin to her yang.) There’s not much I can add that summarizes who you are, but I thought you were always near a window. You basked in the sun, belly-side up. Eyes closed, but I could tell they were peaceful. Almost always, they were peaceful. 

From the day I first saw you both, I loved you out. Every day we spent together, I met you again and again; I loved you more–this time, inside and out. However many times our souls part, I wish to find you in every other life I have. Thank you boundlessly, infinitely, and immeasurably, for sharing your lives with me; in these past years, you have colored my heart in hues of orange, yellow, and all other colors of the rainbow. For you, I am forever grateful.