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When I die, nobody is going to care what I did with my life.

They’re not going to care about the achievements I was once so proud of. They’re not going to remember the talent that once impressed me so much about myself. Nobody is going to know or care what my IQ was.

The only thing people will remember about me — if they remember anything at all — is how I’ve made them feel. The only way I’m going to matter to others is if I’ve somehow shown genuine love to them or helped them find meaning in their own lives.

I’ve recently realized that I’ve had it all wrong for a long time. I’ve been letting my ego get in the way of being the person I need to be. I understand how that happened — and I’ll tell you about that in a minute — but the bottom line is that I’ve been chasing the wrong things.

I’ve wanted to be a star. I’ve wanted to be important. I craved the feeling of mattering to others, so I’ve unconsciously pursued a kind of success that would matter only to the wounded heart of my hidden inner child.

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For at least a couple of months, I had been trying to catch a feral kitten who I kept seeing behind the dumpster of a restaurant where I often went in late 2022. He was sometimes in the parking lot scrounging for food, but he took off like a shot any time I tried to get close.

Three years ago today, I used a trap to catch this tiny little boy. He joined my household that day and he’s now the senior feline in residence. The scared little boy of Dec. 3, 2022 has become a confident ruler in the three years he’s been with me.

Here’s his story in three minutes. Watch it below or click here to watch it on YouTube.

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It was three years ago tonight when I first got close enough to photograph a small cat who I now call Alex.

For weeks, I had been trying to get close to a tiny feline — maybe 4 months old — who was living behind the garbage dumpster at a restaurant where I used to go. He had been scared enough to get away from everyone who had tried to catch him.

He seemed to spend much of his time in the relative safety of the drainage system at the end of the parking lot. Every time I got close to him, he would dart into an opening and disappear. On this night, I got close enough to take the picture you see above, but when I got any closer, he was gone like a shot.

A friend eventually insisted that I use a trap to capture him. I kept trying to do it my way, but he kept escaping. Finally, my friend bought a trap for me and insisted I try it. And she was right.

I caught the little guy. He was terrified, but he quickly learned to trust me. He had a huge personality, so I named him Alexander the Great. Alex for short. Today, he’s the senior of the three current cats in my home.

But just as importantly, he’s one more of a long line of cats and dogs who let me feel as though I’m rescuing creatures in the same way that I wish someone could have rescued me when I was a child.

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